


The Ink Is Not Dry

by BecauseBraime



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Azor Ahai, Bran keeps changing history, Brienne has a slight dying issue, Butterfly Effect, Canon through 8x03 and then everything changes, F/M, Lightbringer, She won't stay dead of course
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:27:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 55,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28411638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BecauseBraime/pseuds/BecauseBraime
Summary: Set during S8E3 - the Long Night. Bran knows what needs to happen for the living to defeat the Night King. To do that, he needs two knights, but he needs them whole. Before the Night King can defeat the living, Bran realizes what he must do. The Bloodraven was wrong. The ink is not dry, and Bran must change the past to save the future.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 163
Kudos: 225





	1. I'll Die For You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Yess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yess/gifts).



> This fic was a prompt request from Yess who wanted a fic where the living were about to lose to the Night King and Bran needs to send Brienne back in time to prevent Jaime from losing his hand. I've taken some liberties with the prompt a bit, and I hope it doesn't disappoint! Sorry for the delay, Yess! I will update every other day as my other work has taken up much more time than I expected. 
> 
> Warning: Brienne might die once or twice (or thrice). OOPS. Don't worry. She doesn't stay dead because Bran needs her as alive as he needs Jaime alive with two hands. Like the movie Butterfly Effect, some of Bran's attempts are a bit trial and error.

**Brienne**

The dead were closing in from all angles. Hours of fighting, screaming, and running were taking their toll. Brienne was covered in a thick sludge of fluid neither human nor soil. With each swing of her blade that cut through the wights, Brienne tried to envision the other side of battle. She fought for the sun to return. For the living to win. For the Stark children to remain safe. For Jaime.

With heavy arms, Brienne gritted her teeth and raised her sword to face the next incoming wight. At her side, Brienne felt Jaime and Pod moving in equally strained movements. On too many occasions to count, the trio had saved each other in battle.

As the next wave of dead crashed against them, Brienne glanced across the courtyard. They were being slowly backed up against a wall with nowhere left to turn. With another step backwards, Brienne’s heel hit the stonework of the First Keep. To her right, Jaime was pushed hard into the same wall by a group of wights that gnashed at his face and clawed at his arms.

Felling the wight before her, Brienne turned and thrust her blade into one of the wights trying to claw straight through Jaime’s armor. With only one wight upon him, Jaime’s arm was free to cut through the second. Their eyes met and a desperate plea passed between them.

_Don’t die. Keep fighting._

Then the next group was upon them. The pressure charging at them was suffocating. It felt to Brienne as though she was adrift at sea during a storm. With every wave that broke over her head, Brienne clawed to the surface. Just as she caught her breath, another wave was breaking over her. There was no reprieve and no way out.

Something pushed against her side. Unlike the wights, it felt warm and steady; less chaotic than the touch of the dead. Glancing to her side, Brienne saw Jaime staring at her. “The Godswood.”

Brienne’s eyes moved left, and she saw them. The Night King and his generals moved purposefully towards the ancient weirwood where Bran was placed to await him. Reaching out with her left, Brienne grabbed Pod and wordlessly pushed him forward. When the young man’s eyes met Brienne’s, she saw a mix of despair and fatigue dueling for dominance.

“Pod! We must move. Godswood.”

Understanding registered on his features, and together they pushed back on the enemy with everything they had. The effort to move into the Night King’s path felt like moving the Wall itself. Every muscle in Brienne’s body burned from the effort, but she had to keep moving.

She was a knight. Jaime had charged her to be brave and to protect the innocent. Inwardly, Brienne screamed at herself to be strong. She couldn’t let them down. She couldn’t let Jaime down.

Oathkeeper slashed aggressively at the wights blocking Brienne’s path to death itself. Jon had warned them about the White Walkers. Unlike the wights, the Wight Walkers were strong and near indomitable. Brienne worried about Pod and Jaime; one an inexperienced soldier and the other a knight missing his dominant hand.

Then they reached the White Walkers. Standing tall, Brienne took a breath and steadied herself. The voice of Ser Goodwin was in the back of her mind.

_“Wait and watch, girl, wait and watch.”_

As Brienne did when she fought in Renly’s melee… as she did when she fought Jaime on the bridge… as she did when she fought the Hound… Brienne waited. She waited for the White Walker to attack. She waited for the White Walker to show his weakness.

_Everyone has a weakness._

The creature was pure force. Brienne blocked a blow that felt as though it might take her arm off. Before she could counter, the creature was swinging again. Brienne moved backwards on her feet and desperately tried to assess where its weakness was.

A torrent of blows poured down on Brienne. It was too much, and her arm was less and less successful in holding off the creature’s blade. Knowing she had to move or the next strike would go straight through her arm and head, Brienne saw it. The opening.

Dodging under the blow and spinning, Brienne’s blade cut through the creature’s side. It shattered into a million pieces at the impact. Shock rippled through Brienne as her sword followed through. Brienne stood rooted in place and heaving. Her eyes met Jaime’s and a look of pride filled his eyes. A small smirk formed at his lips, but then Brienne saw it.

Since losing his dominant hand, Brienne observed how Jaime overcompensated for the weaker left hand by using his body to pull the sword across when striking. The excessive turn of his hips and shoulders always left him open at the side; an easy kill for more experienced opponents.

Another White Walker moved rapidly at Jaime and he turned to block and counter. Brienne tried to scream, but her voice was raw from hours of screaming. Fear clenched Brienne’s heart and she sprung into action. Sprinting at Jaime, Brienne’s sword flew out just in time to block the killing blow to Jaime’s vulnerable side. The impact from the creature’s blade was nearly enough to take her head off.

At the force of the White Walker’s strike, Brienne’s body spun; her backside facing the creature. Brienne’s eyes met Jaime’s and everything around them seemed to take pause. Before Brienne could lift her sword and turn around to counter, Brienne felt the sharpest pain of her life.

Everything went silent. Brienne could see soldiers fighting, but there was no sound; only pain. Brienne felt her eyes water as she continued staring into Jaime’s emerald eyes. Slowly, Brienne’s eyes lowered, and she saw the icy tip of the Walker’s sword sticking through her body. The creature’s blade had passed through her body just below the back of her armor.

Jaime stood in shock before Brienne. His eyes wide and tearing as he followed her eyeline to the blade. In a desperate, rage-filled cry, Jaime swung his sword wildly over Brienne’s head. Brienne couldn’t see the blow, but she felt its impact.

The creature shattered into a million pieces and the force nearly sent Brienne to the blood-stained snow at her feet. Brienne’s body began to crumple towards the ground, but Jaime caught her in his arms.

“No! Brienne! It’s alright. You’ll be alright!”

With every word spoken, Jaime sounded more and more distant. Brienne felt something wet on her head and face.

_Is it snowing or raining? How long have the skies wept during this battle?_

Brienne’s face was pressed against Jaime chest as he slowly guided them to the ground. Glancing up, Brienne saw tears streaming down Jaime’s face.

_Jaime. Did I protect him? Is he alright?_

Brienne could see no sign of trauma to his body. A small smile spread across her face at the knowledge that she saved him. The man before her was the love of her life, though he would never know it. To admit to such a truth was too exposing and embarrassing. Brienne knew that she was not made to be loved, but she offered her love and protection freely. To give her life for Jaime’s felt worthy.

“It’s a good death.” _I saved the man I love._

“No! You’re not dying. It’s all wrong. It’s supposed to be the other way. Why did you do that? Why? Don’t let me.” Jaime held Brienne as tightly as their armor would allow. His arms held Brienne’s face firm to his chest.

A strange warmth spread through Brienne as everything began to fade into darkness. For much of her life, Brienne feared having no purpose. She was an ugly woman and her father’s only living child. Unable to make a match, Brienne feared that her life would be little more than a tale of failure.

Where no knight would come to rescue her, Brienne became her own. She would make her life matter, even if her name was unknown to future generations. All she wanted was to serve a worthy lord, lady, or cause. Where no one would offer her love, she would offer hers and fight with all of herself to defend those she swore to protect. Those she loved.

_I could never be loved, but I could be a shield. I finally succeeded. I failed Renly. I failed Catelyn. I didn’t fail Jaime. It’s a good death._

“Brienne! Please. I’ll be lost without you. You’re my light.”

**Bran**

Bran flew over the battle as his body sat stationary in his wheelchair below. Much of his time during the Long Night was spent watching Azor Ahai and Lightbringer. The man who pushed him from a tower would now save his life. Jaime Lannister was finally where he was meant to be, having left Cersei to fight beside the woman who was his heart; his Lightbringer. Brienne.

It had taken Bran quite some time to master his powers well enough to see _that_ far back. Even his predecessor struggled to move through the darkness to a time so distant that it was impossible to see. Having surpassed his predecessor’s skill, Bran finally saw it.

Like most things in history, the tale was warped and stretched with time. Truth gave way to fantasy. No one liked a boring story. Everyone wanted something dramatic, thrilling, and romantic. Azor Ahai did indeed exist as did Lightbringer, except that Lightbringer was not a sword. Lightbringer was Azor Ahai’s true love; his light in the darkness.

It was for her that Azor Ahai fought and beat back the darkness. He fought with Lightbringer at his side, not in his hand, and together, they beat death. Over time, the minstrels made her a sword in their songs. Over time, her breathtaking blue eyes became Azor Ahai’s guiding flame in the darkness.

They were fanciful tales that bent the truth. Once Bran saw the truth of it, he saw similarities between Jaime and Brienne. He hadn’t considered them until Brienne stood in defense of Jaime at trial. The woman afraid to speak in public stood before the most powerful people in the north. She stood before allies in defense of an enemy.

But then Bran watched Jaime. He watched as the cruel, indifferent, unapologetic eyes of the Kingslayer softened when he looked to Brienne. The scene playing out before Bran was like a window into the past. Studying them, Bran took to the weirwood after the trial concluded. He looked back over the years of acquaintance between the pair.

_How did I miss it? How did I not see it before? They love each other._

Bran looked into their pasts. The similarities between Jaime and Azor Ahai, and Brienne and Lightbringer, were astonishing. When Bran’s eyes had rolled forward, Jaime Lannister stood before him. He rambled about an apology for an event that Bran knew must happen. It meant little to Bran now. All Bran needed was for Jaime to become what he was meant to be. Azor Ahai. He needed Brienne to be his Lightbringer.

Jaime spoke of _after_ the war, but Bran didn’t want to discuss _after_. He needed Jaime focused on _now_.

_“How do you know there is an after?”_

He needed Jaime to concentrate on the severity of the threat marching towards them. If Jaime died, there was no after. If Brienne died, there was no after. They would have to beat death together just as their predecessors did.

Now as Bran flew over the battle, he spotted them once more. They moved as one and never left each other’s side. A desperate urgency guided them towards the Godswood to cut off the path of the Night King and the White Walkers. Something about the way it was playing out unsettled Bran.

_This wasn’t how it looked with Azor Ahai and Lightbringer. What is it? What is missing?_

Bran watched from above and considered all that he had observed of Jaime and Brienne. All that he had observed about Azor Ahai and Lightbringer.

_Their sword hands. Jaime is missing his. He’s too weak._

As if by thought alone, Bran saw his thought come to life. Jaime had swung across his body with his left. The offhand still wasn’t as strong as his dominant hand had once been. It took him longer to recover between strikes, and his body tried to overcompensate for the weakness of his left by pulling his swing rather than letting this wrist and arm do the work.

In the act of putting his entire body behind the swing, Jaime’s body turned to the right on the follow through. His eyes landed on Brienne and her victory over a White Walker. The distraction would cost not only Jaime, but the living. Only Brienne saw the incoming threat in form of a massive White Walker taking aim at Jaime’s head.

Brienne surged forward and blocked the creature’s blow just in time to save Jaime, but not herself. When the White Walker’s blade went through her body, Bran felt everything freeze. The air seemed to still below Bran’s wings. A human emotion coursed through his host’s body. Fear.

Bran’s eyes rolled forward in the Godswood and he saw the faint outline of the Night King approaching. With a racing heart, Bran considered everything he had learned and seen over the years. His brain searched through mankind’s history for an answer that would never come… until it did.

Bran recalled when his predecessor showed him the scene at the Tower of Joy. When Bran called out after Ser Arthur was kill, Ned took pause. He had heard Bran’s voice and glanced around before continuing up the stairs. Hodor had heard the instructions and made the words his mantra and name. 

_The ink is not dry. I need to change it. I need to change history. I need to get Jaime his hand back._

Considering Jaime’s and Brienne’s journey together, Bran knew where to go. Closing his eyes, Bran took himself to the river. Standing behind a chained Jaime and contemplative Brienne, Bran whispered into her ear.

“Not the bridge. Not the bridge. Not the bridge.”


	2. I’ll Die For My Oath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bran guides Brienne to make a different decision at the bridge. The outcome isn't quite what he expected.

**Brienne**

_“Not the bridge. Not the bridge. Not the bridge.”_

Brienne’s head snapped to the Kingslayer. “Shut up!”

The man was insufferable and couldn’t afford her a moment’s peace to think. It seemed to Brienne that the gods enjoyed tormenting her. As if made purely for their own amusement, the gods granted Brienne nothing with ease.

Brienne could not curtsey or sew despite her many hours trying to perfect both. Brienne could not attract a man despite countless prayers beseeching the gods for a husband. Brienne could not get Jaime gods damned Lannister to shut up despite days imploring him to do so.

“Shut up? Are you now hearing my voice in your head, wench? Your infatuation with me knows no bounds. I’ve not said a word to you.”

Brienne glared at the man in chains standing to her right. “I’m not deaf. You said, ‘not the bridge’.”

_Perhaps I’ll take it out of spite._

Jaime snorted and shook his head. “You truly have gone mad. Now you accuse my voice of whispering in your ear. I can assure you that I desire neither my voice nor my body to be anywhere _in_ or _near_ you.”

With a heavy sigh, Brienne leaned against the tree to her left. Something in her head insisted on finding another path across the river than the bridge before them.

_Seven hells. I truly am going insane._

From Brienne’s side, the Kingslayer spoke once more; his voice mocking. “It’s a tough decision. Take the bridge and risk being seen, or cross by water.”

“Silence, Kingslayer.”

Ignoring her reprimand, the Kingslayer continued to ramble at her side. “Anyone could see us by bridge, but cross by water and the current could take us, or I could escape down the river.”

_I suppose it would be nice to watch you drown._

“Good luck.”

As Brienne considered the approach once more, Jaime glanced at her and smirked. The situation was causing him great enjoyment as he watched her struggle. His voice was grating as he needled her once more.

“It’s wonderful to watch you wrestle with these dilemmas. Which will she choose?”

_Not the bridge._

Opting to move further down river and find a safer place to cross, Brienne pushed Jaime along roughly. The sound of the river drowned out his prattling for the next hour or so as Brienne concentrated on finding another crossing point. Just ahead near a bend, the tide slowed, and the water shallowed enough to risk a crossing.

“You’re really going to drag me across a river in these shit boots? My feet hurt as it is, and now you mean to jeopardize our ability to walk. Even a common foot soldier knows to keep their feet dry.”

Brienne grumbled at his bitching, but she shoved the Kingslayer towards the riverbank. As they waded into the water, Brienne groaned inwardly. The bottom of the river was thick like sludge from decomposing leaves. As her feet sank into the mud, Brienne struggled to pull her legs forward. The water came up to their knees as they moved across slowly, trying not to fall.

The Kingslayer’s voice was grating as he complained once more. “Lovely. Now our feet can be wet _and_ muddy. There’s probably all manner of fish shit in here too. I hope you’re pleased.”

_I just need to endure him a while longer. If we can find horses at a nearby village, I can return him to his kin even faster. Anything to get away from this man and return Lady Stark’s daughters to her._

The sun was high, but a cool breeze cut across the water as they crossed. A slight chill ran down Brienne’s spine as she considered Jaime’s previous comment. Having grown up on an island in the Stormlands, Brienne understood the importance of staying dry. Many trips to the other side of Tarth saw her caught in rainstorms that forced her to take shelter in caves or abandoned cottages. The first thing her father taught her was to keep her boots dry.

_‘Start a fire. Get your boots dry and your outer layers dry if you can.’_

Thinking of her father made Brienne long for home. After Renly died, Brienne’s heart shattered. Had Lady Catelyn not been there, Brienne likely would have been torn to pieces by Renly’s soldiers or taken prisoner. Still, Brienne would have accepted death after her failure to guard him. It was Brienne’s first true test as a shield, and she failed.

_I don’t want to fail again. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep my oath to Lady Catelyn._

After making it to the other side of the river, Brienne glanced down at their feet. Much of their boots were covered in mud from the riverbed. Their lower bodies were soaked through, and when the sun fell, they would catch a chill.

Still, something in the back of Brienne’s mind told her that she took the best route. There was something ominous about the bridge. Some unseen force guided her away from it. Scanning the area, Brienne found a concealed location to setup camp. They would take lunch and allow their boots to dry before continuing towards the capital.

After tying Jaime to a tree, Brienne collected firewood and kindling to get a fire going. She glanced at Jaime who sat quietly in irritation. His head leaned back against the tree and he grumbled to himself.

Approaching him, Brienne spoke laconically and gestured with her hands. “Come on. The boots.”

With narrowed eyes, Jaime toed off his boots while staring at her. Brienne was certain that if he had a sword at his disposal, he would give her a slow death. With two pairs of boots tucked under her arms, Brienne walked back to the river to wash off the mud. As she did so, Brienne notice the holes in his boots.

Brienne had little care for the Kingslayer. He was a prisoner and she was his captive. Lady Catelyn had given her a mission to ensure her daughters’ safe return in exchange for the vile man in Brienne’s possession. Still, it seemed ridiculous to have him walk the entire way in such horrid boots.

_I suppose for once he had reason to complain._

With both sets of boots rinsed off, Brienne made her way back towards the camp. The size of the fire would have both sets of boots dry within an hour or two. In the meantime, Brienne decided to look for food. She had few resources to hunt properly, but Brienne knew the river best.

Learning to live off the water was another lesson learned on Tarth. She was taught to fish for leisure and survival; each lesson taught with varying resources. Taking of her breastplate and pauldrons, Brienne sighed at the freedom. The armor was heavy and ill-fitted. When Brienne left Tarth, she took armor from Evenfall’s armory. Despite teaching her the sword, Selwyn thought it unnecessary to give his only living daughter custom armor.

When Brienne declared that she would leave Tarth to serve Renly, Selwyn had raged. He didn’t want her to leave and risk her life in the younger Baratheon’s rebellion. Ever the cautious man, Selwyn often opted to remain away from fighting against the crown. They had maintained neutrality in Robert’s Rebellion, and Selwyn intended to maintain neutrality in the current war.

With her armor removed, Brienne took off her next layer; a light mail also ill-fitted for her body. Brienne would use the mail as a net to try and catch food to fuel their bodies for the journey ahead. They had gone many days on small rations, having little time for Brienne to hunt during daylight.

Now that wet boots slowed their progress, Brienne had more time to catch a proper meal. It didn’t take long before Brienne had a few small trout to roast over the fire. She collected her belongings, the fish, and sticks for roasting.

With a heavy sigh, Brienne dropped the items on the opposite side of the fire from the Kingslayer. He watched quietly as she cleaned the fish with her dagger before skewering them with the sticks that she sharpened.

Brienne began to roast the fish after placing her mail over some large rocks to dry. As the flames licked at the sides of the trout, Brienne sighed. While she wasn’t traveling alone, it felt that way. The only company she had wished her dead and tormented her along the journey.

_‘Where did you find this beast?’_

_‘Uglier in daylight.’_

_‘Have you known many men… women… horses?’_

_‘Your childhood must have been awful for you. Were you a foot taller than all the boys?’_

The crackling of the fire was soon interrupted by the Kingslayer. “You fish well for a noblewoman, though I suppose you’re accustomed to eating outdoors. My lord father certainly wouldn’t allow livestock indoors for supper.”

_Don’t respond. He’s trying to rattle me as usual. He means for me to make a mistake. I can’t fail Lady Catelyn as I failed Renly._

Brienne turned over the fish and ignored him. His cruel comments were nothing new to Brienne. She had heard the japes all her life. As a young girl, the words cut deep. Brienne feared that she would never acclimate to the world’s judgement of her. With each year, the harsh words hurled at her felt more and more expected. More and more the norm.

Numb. It was the one word that Brienne would use to describe the feeling after hearing cruel japes at her expense. As had become the norm over the past weeks, Brienne’s silence only goaded the Kingslayer. He was like a child that would not stop on until he had an adult’s attention.

“Does Tarth have a Keep, or do you simply sleep in the stables?”

_Now he truly means to vex me. He only gets this obnoxious when stationary and bored._

Most of the Kingslayer’s ramblings were mindless or meant to poke at Brienne’s weakness; namely Renly. Since identifying that sore spot, he had not stopped picking at the freshly formed scab that covered Brienne’s heart.

Now he had resorted to unnecessarily cruel japes in a last-ditch effort to get her attention. Glancing through her lashes, Brienne noted the Kingslayer staring at her with amusement writ across his face. Brienne wouldn’t abide it. 

“If I’m truly so repulsive to look upon, then I recommend finding something else to stare at.”

Her reply struck a nerve. “I wasn’t looking at you! Though now that I am, I must say you’ve smaller teats than the Clegane brothers despite being of their height.”

_I can’t kill him, but perhaps I can cut out his tongue._

With a sigh, Brienne grabbed one of the fish skewers and walked it over to him. Crouching before him, Brienne waved the fish in front of him. “If you weren’t staring at me, how could you make such an observation of my body? Sorry, not interested.”

Jaime’s eyes went wide, and his body shrunk back against the tree. Before he could reply, Brienne dropped the fish onto his lap and walked back to the other side of the fire. Jaime’s eyes followed her retreat, though Brienne did not notice when she spoke again.

“I do hope you’re not staring at my ass either.”

Brienne knew that her body was undesirable, and he wasn’t staring. Any stares she drew were purely born out of disgust or jest. Inwardly, she longed for a man to look upon her with something other than repulsion. The only thing her body accomplished was make others uncomfortable.

While she knew the Kingslayer could never desire her, using her ugliness to unsettle him was the only thing she had to combat his verbal assaults. The approach worked and a much welcome silence filled the small camp.

Brienne ate one of the fish as Jaime sat muttering to himself. His fingers twirled the skewer that she had left in his lap.

A quiet voice called out from the other side of the fire as Brienne took small bites of her meal. “I wasn’t staring. I just… your armor looks ridiculous on you. It doesn’t fit.”

Brienne snorted and rolled her eyes. “Of course not. Why would it?”

The question startled the Kingslayer. He glanced at her as though it was the dumbest thing he had ever heard. “Tarth is a prominent House. Surely you can afford custom armor.”

“Why would my father give me that?” Brienne’s voice was laced with confusion.

Swaying the skewer back and forth as he stared at the fish, Jaime huffed a laugh and met her eyes. “You _did_ go off to war for the little tulip, didn’t you? Usually when one goes off to war, one wears armor.”

“Usually when one goes off to war, _he_ is respected for defending _his_ House or _his_ kingdom. Someone such as that would likely be afforded armor. Do you know many women serving the Westerlands in this war?”

Brienne’s tone was bitter and cold. Judging by the Kingslayer’s reaction, there were no women to speak of. A heavy sigh pushed past Brienne’s lips as she picked more meat from the fish. After a moment’s pause, Jaime spoke once more.

“Maege and Dacey Mormont. They fight for the Young Wolf. I hear they’re quite good, though they certainly would have no chance against me in single combat.”

Jaime’s brows furrowed as he looked at the fish. “Visenya Targaryen. I imagine she was quite ferocious to stand across the field from… or below while she rode her dragon. Princess Nymeria sounded quite accomplished. Dorne is rather proud of that lineage. I imagine they boast some female warriors too.”

The response surprised Brienne. A man such as the Kingslayer did not strike her as someone who could recognize or respect the skill of female warriors. Truthfully, Brienne never spent much time reading such histories. As a girl, she wanted to be the fair maiden rescued by the dashing knight. Of course, such a rescue would never come for her.

Even more surprising were the Kingslayer’s next words. “Though I don’t know if those Dornish women could kill three soldiers quite so efficiently as you did. Either way… your armor is ridiculous and should be fitted properly.”

The ate in silence; each enjoying two of the four fish that Brienne caught. When the boots had been set before the fire long enough, Brienne picked them up to inspect them. They were dry enough to continue their journey forward. Glancing at Jaime, Brienne could see the wear on his feet from the boots he was given.

_I despise this man, but I have to get him to King’s Landing in one piece to make the exchange._

Their boots appeared close enough in size. Brienne handed him her pair and put on his. They were quite shit indeed.

Jaime’s brows furrowed as he appraised the boots he was handed. “These are not mine.”

“I don’t want to hear your bitching for a bit. My head hurts.”

**Jaime**

The journey with the wench was unbearable. She played at knight as though it mattered; as though the title was not as soiled as Jaime’s white cloak. Still, there was an innocence to her that Jaime admired. She saw the world as he once did before becoming a Kingsguard; before becoming the Kingslayer. Brienne thought knights were good, honorable, just, and kind. They were not.

Like people, knights could be corrupt, dishonorable, selfish, and cruel. Not _all_ knights, but many. For every true knight like Ser Barristan, Ser Arthur, or Ser Brynden, there was a shit knight like Ser Meryn, Ser Gregor, or himself.

_I thought to be a true knight once. To Westeros, I sullied the title when I slayed Aerys. In truth, I sullied the title when I shoved Bran Stark from his stone perch._

They walked through the wooded area stretching out before them. As Jaime stepped on a rock, his foot rolled slightly and he prepared for the pain to come, but none did. Glancing down he was reminded of the better-quality boots now on his feet. His boots hardly had soles left to withstand jagged rocks and wet fields.

For days, the beast traded boots with him. As Jaime stared down at the wench’s boots on his feet, his eyes drifted backwards to greet her steady march at his back.

“They’re shit boots, aren’t they?”

Brienne sighed and continued forward as though the thought mattered little. “They’re shoes. No more, no less.”

“Well, I suppose you’re likely to have hooves as it is. Seems a bit redundant to wear boots, so I’m not surprised you’re unaffected by the decrepit soles.”

Jaime’s barbed words didn’t have the desired effect. The beast hummed in amusement at his words. “Whatever you need to tell yourself to feel better about the fact that you have dainty feet. For someone who claims to be a great knight, I don’t imagine you see much time walking. You probably sit there on your horse, patting yourself on the back for barking orders from the rear lines.”

Irritation bubbled in Jaime’s core. “I do not have dainty feet. They’re well-calloused just as my sword hands. Give me a sword and I’ll show you how much I can withstand.”

“Not interested. Besides, you wouldn’t want to risk encountering my _sloppy_ footwork as you so kindly remarked. My hooves might step on your delicate feet.”

Jaime turned on heel and glared, but his attempt at intimidation did little to phase the wench. Lifting his foot, he stepped down hard on her toes. A small grimace lined her face and a fleeting victory coursed through Jaime’s veins. “Oh. Apologies. Did my _dainty_ foot injure your hoof?”

“Thank you for that. You stepped on my broken toe.”

The words startled Jaime as his eyes lowered to her stationary foot on the forest floor. “You do not have a broken toe. Gods, you’re so dramatic.”

“I do, though it _was_ starting to mend.”

Jaime snorted and shook his head. “I do not believe you’ve been walking around all these days with a broken toe and have yet to slow down or hobble. You’re likely confusing a break with a sprain.”

Without a word, Brienne toed off one of Jaime’s boots. True to her word, one of her toes was wrapped tightly against another. Despite the bandaging, Jaime could see that to toe indeed had a peculiar bend to it. His face scrunched in distaste at the sight of it.

Without his asking, Brienne offered context. “It breaks easily. I hardly notice it anymore.”

A disbelieving laugh rumbled in Jaime’s chest. “How many times have you broken that toe.”

Brienne hummed with indifference and put the boot back on. “Half a dozen? I’m not certain. I lost count after the first few.”

“Clearly it wasn’t set properly the first time.” Jaime muttered and turned back around to continue walking.

“It was set just fine. The break was quite bad though.”

Strangely, a part of Jaime was curious. “How did you break it the first time.”

“The beach. I was hopping rocks at low tide. One of the rocks had a good deal of algae and my foot slipped before planting properly.”

Jaime grimaced at the words. He had spent his share of days along the beach at the Rock, and he knew the type of rocks she spoke of. They were slick and easy to misjudge.

“I made a similar mistake. Earned me this.” Turning slightly as he walked, Jaime pointed to a small scar near his hairline. It would be unnoticeable unless pointed out.

The momentary feeling of comradery unsettled Jaime. The beastly woman was his enemy and it mattered little what her personal affairs were. Attempting to snuff out any good-will, Jaime picked at Brienne’s appearance again.

“For someone who grew up on an island, your skin is terribly pale. Either you can’t bronze properly, or they preferred to keep you well-covered. I imagine the latter. If I looked like you, I would keep my clothing on too.”

Silence followed Jaime’s words. He either struck a nerve or angered her; either reaction earning a victory in his mind. Glancing back, Jaime saw the wench’s steps slow and her hand move to her hilt. Her head cocked to the right and her eyes rapidly scanned the area.

Jaime opened his mouth to speak, but then he heard the sound that caught her attention. His eyeline followed Brienne’s and he listened intently. The sound of Brienne’s sword unsheathing rung out and Jaime spoke urgently.

“Release my chains and give me a sword.”

“No.” Brienne’s curt reply was not unexpected. With a sigh, Jaime looked back to the area that the noise came from. He prayed to the Seven it was his bannermen so that he could be rid of the wretched beast at his side.

Stepping from behind trees and thickets, the Brotherhood without Banners came into view. Jaime’s heart dropped at the sight of them. The group had initially been dispatched by Ned Stark to deal with the Mountain. Now, what little remained of their group was said to be hunting down Lannisters.

“They’ll kill me. Unchain me now.”

Before the wench could reply, an arrow went whizzing by their heads. Brienne shoved him to the ground and called out. “Stop! I’m transporting a prisoner under orders of Lady Stark.”

Beric Dondarrion smirked at Brienne. “Transporting the Kingslayer. His bannermen killed me and most of our men at the Battle at Mummer’s Ford.”

Pulling open his tunic, Beric displayed a massive scar on his chest. At his side, Thoros smirked; his eyes darting to Jaime.

“Give us the Kingslayer, and we’ll let you live, girl.”

Standing tall before him, Brienne shook her head in refute. “No.”

There were seven men among them including one archer. Jaime was still on his ass when he looked up at Brienne and spoke urgently.

“A sword, wench. Give me a sword. Release my chains.”

Unlike the fight against the three Stark men, Brienne relented. She threw Jaime the key which he quickly used to unlock his chains. Without turning to him, Brienne unsheathed a second sword and set it on the ground.

Jaime scrambled forward and took it before rising to his feet. A slight smirk tugged at his lips.

_We’ll defeat these men, and then I’ll kill her._

The men began to circle them, but despite being malnourished and fatigued, Jaime knew they would win this fight. He had seen the beast fight, and her skill was far better than most knights.

Two men raised their blades towards Brienne who stood tall and confident before Jaime. Disliking her positioning, Jaime elbowed her out of the way to face the threat. Swords came together and sang as words were withheld in place of battle cries.

At Jaime’s right, two men lunged forward at Brienne. She blocked and parried deftly, but Jaime hardly had time to appreciate it. Beric had charged towards him with his sword raised high.

Steel met steel; the sound bouncing off the trees around them. An unknown man tried to use the Beric’s distraction to stab Jaime’s side, but Jaime was too skilled. He spun left and used Beric’s own body as a shield. Dropping to a knee, Jaime shoved his sword into the man’s gut and moved quickly out of the path of Beric’s counter swing.

Jaime’s blood sang as he danced around Beric once more. To his right, the beast had killed four men compared to Jaime’s one. She was currently working on a fifth as Jaime engaged Beric once more. Thoros moved quickly to Beric’s side, but it was too late. Jaime saw his opening and shoved his sword into Beric’s chest. The placement was the same as Beric’s previously revealed scar.

Retracting his blade, Jaime spun left and swung down hard on Thoros’ arm. The man cried out in pain and dropped to the ground. Jaime’s blade had cut through half of Thoros’ left arm, leaving the limb partially severed.

Jaime saw his chance to escape. The beast was occupied fighting for _his_ life which left Jaime free to flee. Slowly, Jaime began to back away so as not to attract unwanted attention.

_Gods. She is frighteningly good. I need to move quickly before she engages me._

Movement on the ground caught Jaime’s attention Thoros dragged himself towards Beric’s body and felt for a pulse.

_He’s dead, you dolt._

Stepping further to the right, Jaime appraised the path behind him. He could help the beast fell the remaining foe and they would leave with their lives, or he could leave her to her own defense and escape. With a final look at the beast, he made his decision.

Jaime turned to flee, but then he heard her voice. “Kingslayer!”

Glancing over his shoulder, Jaime saw the beast surging towards him; her opponent dead on the forest floor. Strangely, her eyes were focused on something else. It happened in a blur. Her blade cut across Thoros’ neck who only moments ago had been bent over Ser Beric. Blood sprayed everywhere, but then Jaime saw him.

Beric was standing once more; his blade taking aim at Jaime’s head. The Beast dove between Jaime and Beric, taking the blow. Beric’s sword cut deep into her collarbone and neck. In the process of Beric’s blade cutting into her, the beast had thrust her dagger into the man’s throat.

Beric fell to the ground spluttering. On impulse, Jaime caught Brienne. Her back was to him and Jaime guided her body to the ground. Shock coursed through his body at the realization that she died for him.

_Why?_

Sinking to his knees with Brienne in his arms, Jaime stared at her dumbfounded. Brienne’s chin quivered as the life began to leave her eyes. They were the most beautiful eyes Jaime had ever seen, though he never would have told her as much.

She muttered something about failing, her eyes looking through him rather than at him.

Jaime’s jaw was slack as he stared at her. “I’m your enemy. Why did you do that?”

The beast’s eyes stared up at seemingly nothing. A darkness began to cloak her pale skin. Jaime had never _truly_ looked at her before, but he did then. A smattering of freckles adorning her cheeks and nose was a map of the stars. Her eyes teared, but none fell as she struggled to speak.

“Oath… Please.”

Her words were laced with desperation. It was the last coherent thing she said. She mumbled for a moment while the blood poured from her neck.

“Tar… sor… fai…”

As the life left her, Jaime felt a tightening in his chest and a searing pain in his right hand. He glanced around the field which was littered with bodies. She had felled most of them. All to keep him alive.

Jaime was unable to move. Such grief over the beast’s death felt absurd, but Jaime couldn’t stop staring at her lifeless body as though it meant something to him. A deep loss pulled tugged at his heart; the space once reserved for Cersei.

_I should have fought with her. I shouldn’t have tried to escape._

**Bran**

Bran stood wide-eyed watching Jaime cradle Brienne on the forest. Bodies littered the ground and blood coated the leaves and soil.

_Why? Why didn’t he fight with her?_

Steering Brienne away from the bridge had not been enough. There was no rapport between them without Locke’s cruelties. Bran shook his head and considered the initial journey that Brienne and Jaime took.

_‘You need trust to have a truce.’_

Frustration built deep within Bran. How can they build trust without Jaime losing his hand? They need to meet somewhere else? But where?

Bran recalled the events of the war and where Jaime and Brienne were when it began. Then it came to him. With a deep guilt at what he had to do, Bran whispered the words. “Forgive me, Robb. I don’t know how else to defeat the Night King.”

Closing his eyes, Bran concentrated on the one event that changed the war. When he opened his eyes, Bran stood behind Jaime. The Kingslayer was staring ahead towards the Whispering Woods with his contingent at his back. With a deep breath, Bran leaned forward.

“It’s a trap. It’s a trap. It’s a trap.”


	3. I’ll Die For My King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is a different outcome in the War of the Five Kings after Bran's intervention.

**Jaime**

“It’s a trap. It’s a trap. It’s a trap.”

Jaime’s head turned at the sound, but he saw only his mounted officers and the contingent at their back. The men stood quietly awaiting his orders to move forward. Jaime’s brows furrowed in confusion as he appraised the Whispering Woods once more.

He had taken a couple of thousands to beat back a small contingent of rebels. It was hardly the first time that Jaime had been drawn from camp at Riverrun to deal with raiders.

In the distance, Jaime could see the forested valley below. His plan had been to charge forward and deal with the rebels, but something made him take pause. Jaime mounted his horse and moved towards his officers.

“Cleos, ride back to camp. I want 10,000 more men.”

Cleos’ eyes went wide. “10,000? We only have 15,000 in total in our contingent. Who will hold the siege at Riverrun.”

It took only a pointed glared for Cleos to retreat quickly on horseback.

_Useless. By the Seven if he weren’t Aunt Genna’s precious little shit, I would gut him and spare us all the headache._

The rest of Jaime’s officers quietly awaited their orders. Camp was not far from where they stood, and in less than an hour, the 10,000 demanded soldiers were assembled at the rear of Jaime’s initial 2,000. With a heavy sigh, Jaime considered the area below.

They had the advantage of the hill descending into the valley. With most of his army just below the crest on the opposite side, Jaime made his decision.

“Cleos, take the first 2,000 into the valley. I believe what awaits us is far more than we had planned to encounter. When your forces have descended and the enemy drawn out, we’ll split our remaining 10,000 from the east and west. We’ll close in on what awaits us like a vice grip.”

With a nod of understanding, Cleos led the first 2,000 into the valley. Jaime held back at a distance and watched. Sure enough, a large host of Robb Stark’s army swarmed Cleos’ group. Jaime’s eyes went wide. In the wooded area, it was difficult to see how many emerged from the woods, but it looked anywhere between 15,000-20,000.

_Seven hells. He has the whole of his army here!_

Jaime gave the signal to his officers at the east and west where the men had fanned out. The army surged forward and caved in on Robb’s army from both sides. They squeezed in on the enemy, catching them unaware. Then, Jaime saw him.

The Young Wolf was engaged with one of Cleos’ men. Robb’s direwolf nipped at heels of Jaime’s bannerman and pulled him to the ground. Urging his horse forward, Jaime cut through anyone in his path. Desperate calls to protect the King in the North echoed off the trees surrounding them. It was of little use.

Jaime’s sword severed Robb’s head.

The battle was lauded as the greatest victory the crown had seen in a generation. With one swing of us his sword, Jaime broke the spirit of the North and Riverlands. As reward for ending the rebellion to the north, Jaime was sent south to deal with Renly.

All Jaime wanted was to return to King’s Landing and find his way between the sheets with Cersei. Renly proved a most irritating obstacle in achieving that objective.

_How many kings must I kill to get back in Cersei’s bed?_

Taking the might of the West with him, Jaime approached the outskirts of Renly’s camp. The Stormlands and the Reach had allied with the younger Baratheon, but there would be little in way of a contest that day. Tywin had treated with the Queen of Thorns in secret. In exchange for her aid in the battle, Tywin would betroth Joffrey and Margaery and make her queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

Seeing what happened to the North, the Queen of Thorns thought better of her continued support for Renly’s claim. That day when the West attacked Renly’s camp, the Reach would turn on their comrades.

_The little tulip will be met with a sword of an altogether different variety from his lover._

Jaime smirked at the thought, but in truth, he knew that Loras was likely unaware of the coup. Lord Tarly had been given his orders by the Queen of Thorns. Even Lady Olenna knew better than to tell her grandson of the new alliance. She had in effect traded her grandson’s happiness for her granddaughter’s crown.

A part of Jaime felt a wave of sympathy for what was to come. He hated trickery and preferred to face his threat on the battlefield with lines clearly drawn. While it did not surprise Jaime that Tywin had concocted such a plan, Jaime despised it.

Turning to his senior most officers, Jaime gave his orders. “Give every man ample chance at surrender. This is not an honorable fight.”

**Brienne**

Brienne folded her bedroll and donned her armor. Her hand traced the newly received cloak of Renly’s Rainbow Guard. The cloak had been held in the hope that Ser Barristan Selmy would join the cause, but when the aged knight never arrived, Renly allowed Brienne to claim it after her victory in the melee.

The men had sneered and mocked her. One of the archer’s accused her of trickery after she had grappled Loras to the ground. Brienne cared little what the men thought. She cared only that Renly trusted her with his life.

Since Renly stole her heart at the ball on Tarth some years ago, Brienne was eager to offer the rest of herself in service. She would be his shield and give her life for his if need be. In that vow, Brienne refused to fail.

_My life matters little compared to his. I wish only to serve and serve well. I’ll keep King Renly and Lady Margaery safe._

Life at Renly’s camp had not been easy. Unlike men who earned respect upon arrival, Brienne had to work to prove herself daily. Even then, she was afforded nothing short of scorn. Prior to the melee, the men had made a cruel bet on her maidenhead. Were it not for Lord Randall Tarly, she would have been none the wiser.

The bet hurt, but it was a necessary reminder of what she was. Brienne longed for love, but she only received hate. Hers was a face deemed unworthy by the goods. Her body was more Warrior than Mother. Where her body failed her, her personality did little to compensate.

Brienne was not gifted with wit nor eloquence. She struggled at court as much as she failed in conversation. Many thought her incapable of holding a conversation, but she held her tongue more out of fear. Brienne knew that she was awkward. That knowledge and inability to forge friendships in youth saw her take on a silent role in Renly’s guard. Unless she was defending Renly, she cared little to speak.

Walking through the encampment, Brienne’s silk cloak billowed in the wind. Men were still passed out drunk around campfires from the night prior. The sound of camp followers servicing drunken soldiers had kept Brienne awake through much of the night. She wandered if she would ever know non-violent touch from a man before falling into the Stranger’s arms.

As she did every night, Brienne slept alone, but guarded. Since finding out of the bet, Brienne wondered if the men may try to force themselves on her out of anger at their game being exposed by Lord Tarly. Brienne sighed as she stepped over snoring men and discarded wine flagons. She reflected on her life as she made her way towards Renly’s tent.

No man would take her as wife; her father having given up on such wasted efforts. Brienne accepted that she would die with her maidenhead or in the process of protecting it from vile men. While no one would ever appreciate her body, she would guard it. She was the only one who would.

Approaching the other Rainbow Guard, Brienne smiled warmly in greeting. None of the men seemed happy at the prospect of serving at her side. Standing among them, Loras bit into an apple and appraised Brienne with thinly veiled distaste.

In the king’s tent, Brienne heard voices. Margaery emerged looking beautiful in the morning light. She seemed a kind woman, and Brienne was happy for her and Renly. While Renly fancied men, Brienne was pleased that they seemed content in their arrangement. They were respectful towards one another, and both offered affectionate touch in public to maintain the ruse.

Inwardly, Brienne longed to be a beautiful, graceful woman like Margaery. She longed to wear beautiful dresses and dance under the stars with a handsome knight. Instead, Brienne would guard her king and queen. She would smile wistfully as she watched them ascend the steps to the Iron Throne when the war was won.

In the distance, scouts returned from the north. When the men approached, one of the soldiers spoke urgently to Loras. “The West is here. The full army is at the Kingslayer’s back.”

Chaos erupted in the camp. Loras barked orders at the men to ready for battle. Word had arrived weeks prior of the crown’s victory over the northern rebels. While Renly cared little for the fall of House Stark, he worried if his army was enough to withstand the West.

With his wedding to Margaery to secure the Reach, Renly’s confidence grew, but he was still on guard. Word traveled of the Kingslayer’s commanding victory over Robb Stark’s forces at the Battle of the Whisper Woods.

As a girl, Brienne heard all manner of tales of the renowned knight. He was the greatest swordsman of his generation, but he was also the most dishonorable. Brienne had been raised with the utmost regard for honor, justice, and loyalty. To learn that a man donning the White Cloak would kill the very man he was sworn to protect repulsed her.

As the armies of the Stormlands and Reach stood together, Brienne moved into position among the rest of the Rainbow Guard. They would be at the rear of the battle, guarding their king. In the distance, Brienne heard the approach of the West.

A swirl of dust rose into the air as the West’s cavalry charged ahead with weapons drawn. By their estimate, Renly had the advantage in numbers. Between the Reach and the Stormlands, they should outnumber the West by some 40,000.

Unsheathing her sword, Brienne stood tall and confident. She would do anything to keep her king safe, including take a blade for him. Renly already had her heart. To offer her life felt insignificant.

In the middle of their lines, something caught Brienne’s eye. Randall Tarly’s group was attacking a contingent of Stormlanders. Stepping forward in confusion as she looked downhill, Brienne gasped. She turned her head left and noticed the shock on Loras’ face.

_What is going on?_

Loras turned towards Renly; his mouth ajar. “We’ve been betrayed.”

The Lord Commander’s eyes darted to Margaery. The young queen’s face was riddled with guilt as she backed up slowly towards the tent. Betrayal and pain flashed in Loras’ eyes.

“Did you know!? Margaery!? How many!?”

Shaking her head, Margaery backed up faster. Rage clouded Renly’s eyes as he looked to the enemy.

“It seems all…”

At Renly’s words, Loras and Brienne looked back to the field. What started with Randall’s group had spread to the other bannermen of the Reach. The ground at their feet was wetting in Stormlander blood. As the West’s front lines crashed into their northernmost flank, Brienne felt her heart sink.

_How could they? They’ve turned on their king._

With a deep breath, Brienne lifted her sword defiantly. “Ser Loras, flee with our king. I’ll hold as many back as I can.”

“Flee to where!?” Ser Robar screamed at Brienne while continuing to stare at the field.

The West was rapidly cutting through the lines and charging straight for them. Sensing the battle was lost, Ser Bryce and Ser Emmon fled; leaving them with a mere five to guard Renly.

Brienne’s heart began to beat wildly in her chest. Men from the Reach and the West began to make their way towards them as they stood protectively before Renly. Placing her helm on her head, Brienne prepared for death.

In the distance, Brienne heard one of the officers from the Reach scream. “Not Ser Loras or Lady Margaery!”

Glancing at Loras, Brienne could see the rage on his face. “Loras! Take the king, now!”

Looking to Brienne and then back at Renly, Loras nodded. “We have to go! Now! Ser Parmen, with us!”

Ser Parmen followed Loras as he procured horses tied off to the right of Renly’s tent. Taking a final look back at Renly, Brienne nodded. “We’ll cover your retreat.”

The two remaining Kingsguard with Brienne muttered in annoyance at what was guaranteed death. Only moments after Renly fled, the West descended upon them. The fought boldly to ensure Renly had enough time to flee, but then something caught Brienne’s eye to her left. With golden hair as bright as the sun, a man who could only be the Kingslayer cut down a Stormlander just feet away.

Realizing she needed to cut him off to ensure Renly’s escape, Brienne sprinted left. As the Kingslayer’s horse approached, Brienne dropped to a knee and cut across the destrier’s leg. The beast fell to the ground, taking the Kingslayer with him.

Wasting no time, Brienne rounded the fallen beast and raised her sword high. The Kingslayer’s right leg was pinned under his horse and his face was twisted in pain. Before she could land a killing blow, Brienne felt a threat at her back.

Spinning quickly, she raised her sword defensively. A redheaded knight slammed into her after Brienne blocked the blow. They both stumbled at the impact, but Brienne steadied herself quickly. Circling the knight, Brienne quickly assessed his style. The words of Ser Goodwin came to the forefront of her mind.

_‘Watch and wait. Everyone has a weakness.’_

The knight was skilled, and it was evident he was a senior officer. Their blades came together gracefully despite their large frames. Not many fighters were of her size, but this man was. He fought with a confidence unknown to Brienne.

His blade cut left and right, but Brienne knew she was better. After holding back to appraise him, Brienne unleashed a torrent of blows upon seeing his weakness. When her blade pierced through the man’s neck, she heard the Kingslayer scream at her back.

“Addam!”

Turning to face the Kingslayer, Brienne watched as his face contorted in rage. Hobbling on one leg, the Kingslayer lunged forward. Even with his injured leg, Brienne thought his skill downplayed in the tales. She was back on her heels and struggling to keep up.

As his foot landed on a rock, the Kingslayer’s ankle rolled and Brienne took advantage. She spun right and cut across his thigh. The Kingslayer dropped to a knee, and Brienne was once again poised to land a killing blow.

“Brienne! Stop!”

A voice in Brienne’s ear startled her. The momentary distraction almost caused her demise as another officer wearing crimson and gold swung wildly at her head. Unlike the first officer, this one was sloppier, older, and slower.

Brienne felled him quickly, but soon, a sea of Westerlands bannermen were surrounding her. Spinning in place, Brienne cut through anyone within arm’s reach. Brienne’s eyes darted to the direction that Renly had fled. No one had followed that Brienne could see. It seemed that her attempt on the Kingslayer’s life and distracted his officers.

_I need to hold them off. Renly needs more time to retreat._

“Enough!” The Kingslayer’s voice halted the men’s attack. Bodies littered the ground at Brienne’s feet. Glancing to her side, Brienne could see that the remaining Kingsguard had surrendered.

Shoving past the soldiers, the Kingslayer snarled at her. “Lay down your weapon! It’s over. Where is your false king?”

Brienne refused to comply. She pointed her sword at the Kingslayer defiantly. The bannermen glanced to their commander; eyes wide in surprise at Brienne’s refusal to lay down her sword.

“You think dying for Renly Baratheon is noble? I can assure you, it is not! Lay down your sword.”

Shaking her head in refute, Brienne swallowed thickly. She had become a distraction; a distraction to allow Renly more time to flee. Tears welled in her eyes at the realization that her death was guaranteed. The fighting in the field was done, and if she surrendered, the officers and Kingslayer would set their sights on Renly. She had to keep fighting. She had to keep distracting them.

Swallowing thickly, Brienne sent a silent prayer to the Seven beseeching them for her father’s forgiveness. This was what Selwyn feared would happen when she stubbornly set out to join Renly’s cause.

Dead Stormlanders stretched as far as the eye could see. Groups of those who surrendered were being herded together, most of whom were now staring at the spectacle that was the blue knight defiantly staring down the Kingslayer.

Raising his blade in reply, the Kingslayer’s nose flared in anger. “Stubborn fool. Die for your false king then.”

Without looking away from Brienne, Jaime barked at his men. “Back up! This knight thinks himself true.”

_Himself. My helm. He thinks me a man._

The Kingslayer’s sword slashed towards Brienne. She blocked the blow and observed the grimace on his face when his weight shifted to the injured leg. From the fall he took and how gingerly he placed weight on it, the leg was likely broken. Brienne’s eyes darted down to observe his weight shift to the left leg.

_He is righthanded and his lead leg is injured. I might be able to beat him. I may be killed in the process or afterwards, but I’ll remove the greatest threat to Renly’s cause._

Their dance began and Brienne took advantage of his injured side. She led each counterattack to force his injured leg to hold his weight. Frustration was building on the Kingslayer’s features as Brienne moved fluidly around him.

With the Kingslayer’s injury, they were well-matched. Without his injury, Brienne knew her cloak would be soaked in her own blood. As the men began to shout for their commander, Brienne slipped under a blow and slashed across his thigh a second time. The Kingslayer growled in pain and countered wildly.

His pride was now at stake as the men, _his_ men, watched in shock. In his rage, the Kingslayer backhanded Brienne with the hilt of his sword. Her helm went flying as she stumbled backwards; her sword clattering to the ground. She had not expected him to be _that_ strong, but her miscalculation cost her.

The Kingslayer raised his sword to land a killing blow, but he paused midair as she raised her head. Collective gasps filled the space around them as her face was exposed. Brienne wondered if the gasps were at the reveal that she was a woman, or at her unmatched ugliness. The Kingslayer’s eyes went wide in surprise. His jaw went slack and his sword lowered, but the hint of a smile tugged at his lips.

Glancing down at his bleeding thigh and injured leg, the Kingslayer shook his head and grunted. “Enough of these games. Arrest the woman.”

Reaching for the dagger at her hip, Brienne refused to back down. Ugly woman or not, she would never yield. She would gladly die covering Renly’s retreat.

As the Kingslayer began to walk away, the soldiers stepped towards her. Brienne slashed out wildly and screamed. “No! I fight for the true king!”

Felling three more men with only a dagger in hand, the Kingslayer halted his steps and barked at her. “By the Seven, I will not hesitate to kill a woman! Put down your weapon!”

_You already did hesitate to kill a woman._

The men grew uneasy; uncertain if they would be pardoned for killing Brienne while trying to take her captive. Staring at the Kingslayer, Brienne reached down for a sword at her feet.

“You put down your weapon.” At her demand, the Kingslayer almost seemed amused. He looked around the field and raised his arms. “Will you kill us all? There are over 100,000 of us.”

“No. Just you.” Brienne surged forward, swinging wildly, but once more a voice called out. “Stop! Stop!”

When their swords came together, both startled at the voice. Confusion flashed in the Kingslayer’s eyes; mirroring her own bewilderment.

_Where is that voice coming from?_

Before Brienne could turn around to identify the speaker that had called out twice during battle, something sharp pierced her neck. Lower her eyes, Brienne could see the tip of a sword extending through her throat from her backside.

With wide eyes, Brienne looked at the Kingslayer. His face was equally stunned at the attack by his bannerman. Brienne dropped to her knees as she felt the life begin to leave her body.

_Renly. Father. I’m sorry. I failed._

**Bran**

Bran watched in horror as Brienne died for a third time before his eyes. He had called out desperately to halt their needless fighting.

_Why wouldn’t she surrender? What was she thinking? She couldn’t possibly have won._

Bran assumed that Brienne would have been taken prisoner with the others. Fate would bring them together when Bienne was forced to pledge herself to the crown after Renly’s defeat. He did not anticipate it would come easily, but whenever Jaime and Brienne were afforded time together, the protective walls around their respective hearts began to crumble and they found each other.

As Brienne took her last breath, Jaime clutched his chest and stumbled backwards. Each death seemed to take a toll on him, though Bran didn’t understand why or how. He dropped his sword as thought it scolded his skin; his right-hand flexing and unflexing as though it pained him.

The man whose blade pierced Brienne’s throat, mumbled his apologies. “M’lord. I’m sorry. I thought…”

Jaime closed his eyes and steadied his breathing. Before the bannerman could finish explaining, Jaime reached for his own dagger and dragged it across the man’s throat.

Bran began to back away in confusion. He couldn’t comprehend why Brienne was so willing to die for Renly. Then it occurred to him.

_She told Pod about Renly. The ball. Gods… she loved him. She would have died for him as willingly as she died for her true love, Jaime._

Bran had an idea, but if it didn’t work, he worried that he would fail humanity. Closing his eyes and looking into the past, Bran found the moment he needed.

“Go to Tarth. Go to Tarth. Go to Tarth.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK last time that I kill Brienne... I promise! Third time proves a charm for Bran.


	4. I’ll Fight For Your Honor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime goes to Tarth, and this time, Bran gets it right.

**Jaime**

“Go to Tarth. Go to Tarth. Go to Tarth.”

Jaime startled at the words. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw no one there. He was in Robert’s study with Barristan Selmy to his right. Standing before Robert, Renly was sniveling about the Lord’s Progress that Robert was sending him on. The older Baratheon’s patience was running thin.

“You are six-and-ten now! Get out there and meet your bloody people!”

With a heavy sigh, Renly shrugged. “Fine. Where would you have me start? It is a rather _large_ kingdom.”

Rolling his eyes, Robert grumbled. “Start east on Tarth and work your way around. Lord Tarth is throwing some ball for his unwedable daughter. She just had a second broken betrothal.”

Renly groaned at the words. “Lovely. I suppose I may as well be done with the worst of it first.”

Glancing at Barristan and Jaime, Robert barked at them. “Select some men to guard my dolt brother. Perhaps a Kingsguard and a few Gold Cloaks.”

_Tarth._

Something deep within implored Jaime to go. Glancing at Barristan, Jaime could see the Lord Commander rolling his eyes. The Kingsguard was meant to guard the king and his family, but that protection did not typically extend to siblings of the king; only wives and children.

“Your Grace, I can assign some Gold Cloaks, but…”

“I’ll go.” Jaime’s tone was nonchalant as he spoke over Barristan.

The older knight looked to him in confusion. With a slight shrug, Jaime muttered. “What? I could use a break from this shit city.”

In truth, he could only use a break because Cersei was visiting the Rock with the children. Jaime had raged when he wasn’t assigned to escort them, but Barristan insisted on sending Ser Meryn and Ser Mandon with a full escort of Gold Cloaks.

“We’ll have four Kingsguard remaining if you go! I’ll assign Gold Cloaks as planned.”

Robert huffed and waved a hand. “Good! Send the Kingslayer away. I should like some time at the Keep without any Lannisters around to irritate me. Fucking crimson and gold as far as the eye can see. Nauseating.”

_Well I suppose I am wearing gold if we’re to argue semantics._

* * *

A day later, Jaime was on a boat bound for Tarth. He and the Gold cloaks would escort Renly to Tarth, Estermont, and then back to Storm’s End. From Storm’s End, the household guards would replace Jaime and the Gold Cloaks to continue the tour of the mainland, which would take a significant amount of time.

The journey to Tarth took two days by boat. It was a peaceful journey and Jaime enjoyed the time away from Robert. When they arrived at Tarth, Jaime was pleasantly surprised by the island.

Tarth was beautiful; light and airy, warm and welcoming. For as content as Jaime felt, Renly looked bored. The young lord had as much interest in participating in his Lord’s Progress as Jaime had intesret in guarding him. Were it not for the strange voice drawing Jaime to the island, he would have stayed at the Red Keep and sulked about Cersei’s absence.

Their small group was escorted up the mountain towards Evenfall. Along the way, the people of Tarth stopped their daily activity to pay their respects to their liege lord. Despite his distaste for the tour, Renly was courteous. He smiled politely and nodded at those they passed.

Biting back a laugh, Jaime wondered if Renly might spend the ball getting to know Lord Tarth, or finding a young lord to dance with in a hidden alcove. As much as Robert hoped for Renly to find a bride on the tour, Renly’s tastes were obvious to all; all except Robert.

_‘It’s a phase! At his age, I only wanted to fight. Fucking and drinking later.’_

No amount of maturing could change what was obviously preference and not indifference. Jaime understood Renly better than most.

_We don’t get to chose who we love. Neither Renly nor I can only be with who we want most._

The remainder of the afternoon passed quickly enough as Jaime followed Renly about the Keep. As expected, Renly made a show of enjoying his time with Lord Tarth. The young Baratheon soon retired to his room to change for the ball. Jaime recalled Robert’s words that Lord Tarth’s daughter had just failed at a second betrothal.

_I’m quite curious to see what this one will be like._

Jaime entered the grand hall and leaned against the wall with a sigh. To his left, a group of young boys stood in a group laughing and speaking in hushed tones. Across the hall, Renly slowly made his way towards Lord Tarth to continue their conversation from earlier that day. A few young girls smiled and eyed Renly as he passed; a few giggling and blushing as he went.

_This is to be truly awful. Which one is the unwedable Tarth girl?_

Moments later, a most unfortunate looking girl entered the hall at the hells of an older woman. Jaime felt his face scrunch in distaste at the sight of her. The young girl wore a dress that was ill-fitted and made her look terrible awkward. The sleeves were too tight, the bodice too loose, and the skirt too short.

It almost looked as though the seamstress designed the dress for someone else, but it was too late to make adjustments. Atop a broad set of shoulders was a face that even a mother would struggle to love.

The girl had pale skin, freckled skin, too thick lips, and scraggly straw-colored hair. In what seemed the girl’s only redeeming features, a pair of large, blue eyes glanced nervously around the hall. Keeping close to the older woman, Jaime watched as the girl began to fidget nervously with her hands; uncertain what to do with them.

Turning on heel, the older woman began to chastise the girl and huff in thinly veiled annoyance. The scene playing out before Jaime was peculiar. It appeared that the woman was a Septa, which would make the girl none other than Lord Tarth’s unweddable daughter. 

_I can see why she has had two failed betrothals. Gods. I hope the man has other children._

To Jaime’s left, the boys began to snicker and point at Brienne. Oblivious to the scene playing out in his hall, Selwyn laughed loudly as he spoke to Renly. The musicians began to play more lively tunes as the boys sought out dance partners across the hall. Soon, every girl had a dance partner except the ugly one.

Looking at the unfortunate girl, Jaime felt a pang of sympathy. He recalled similar expressions on Tyrion’s face throughout many occasions at the Rock. Jaime had always lamented not being there to do more for Tyrion. His younger brother was often the victim of verbal and physical abuse at the hands those closest to him. Of course, Cersei and Tywin were Tyrion’s greatest tormenters.

A wave of relief hit Jaime when he saw one of the boy’s approach the girl. At first, she seemed suspicious of his approach, but after some words in her ear, she smiled shyly and nodded. The young boy was half a head shorter and well put together. He led the girl onto the dance floor and began to twirl her around.

For such an awkward girl, she moved well. Jaime hated dancing, but he found it came easy given his training in the yards. Footwork was as important to a knight as his sword.

As the boy kept whispers into the girl’s ear, she smiled widely; revealing a set of crooked teeth.

_She really shouldn’t smile. That won’t help._

Then another boy approached and shoved the first away. The action surprised the girl, but soon she was smiling impossibly wider. Despite the teeth and thick lips, the girl’s smile was pleasing to look upon.

_Could be worse I suppose. Still, she had the right of it when she entered. The wall is to be her friend for years to come. Surely these boys only dance with her to curry favor with their lord._

Glancing across the room, Jaime noted the pleasant surprise stretching across Lord Tarth’s face. It was as though he was witnessing a first, though Jaime could understand why. The girl hardly looked the type to attract one dance partner, let alone two.

It wasn’t long before all the boys were fighting over the girl. Jaime didn’t think he had ever seen anyone looks so happy and surprised as the lord’s daughter. Then Jaime heard the laughter.

To Jaime’s left the boys snickered and began to make a jape of it. It was a game to them. The girl quickly realized it and stepped away from her current dance partner. Her eyes darted frantically to her father, but he was lost in conversation with Renly.

All Jaime could see was Tyrion. Charging forward, Jaime shoved the little shit out of the way and grabbed Brienne’s hand. “Keep smiling. Don’t let them see the hurt.”

The girl’s eyes looked up at him as though he was half mad. A question lingered in her eyes, but she did not give it voice. With a sigh, Jaime answered her unspoken query.

“My brother is a dwarf. He has been the victim of similar games by miserable shits. Boys like that aren’t worthy of your tears. Don’t offer them the satisfaction.”

The girl nodded slightly; her eyes shifting to her father once more. Following her eyeline, Jaime noted realization dawning on the lord’s face. His eyes looked to the boys in the corner; a deep sorrow filling his eyes.

Irritation bubbled in Jaime. _My father wouldn’t allow this; not even if it happened to Tyrion. Image is everything. It is respect and power._

“How old are you? You’re quite tall, though judging by your father’s size, you’ve still some growing to do.”

A frown formed at the girl’s lips. “Three-and-ten.”

_Gods! I wonder if they’re of relation to the Cleganes. She’ll be the size of them soon enough._

“Do you have any siblings?”

The girl looked back at him. Despite being quite young, she was not much shorter than Jaime, yet he had reached full height at seven-and-twenty. Her voice trembled slightly as she swallowed down the tears still threatening to spill.

“They… they all died.”

Jaime hummed as the information rolled around in his head. “Your lady mother? Where is she?”

“Dead. The… the birthing bed.”

Images of his own mother flashed in his mind. Then his eyes wandered to the woman in the corner who surely the Septa. A scowl lined the woman’s face as she stared at Brienne. The disappointment shining brightly in the Septa’s eyes was easily identified by Jaime. He often observed the same expression line his father’s face when they spoke.

_If this girl wasn’t so large, I might recommend my brother as a match. They would understand each other; protect one another from it all. He’d like the island too. It seems quite cozy._

Jaime sighed and continued to twirl her around the dance floor. He tried to offer some encouragement to make her feel better.

“You dance well enough. Do you practice often?”

The girl flushed deeply; her color rivaling his House banners. “No. I… I prefer the sword.”

Jaime’s brows furrowed at the words. Biting back a laugh, he raised a brow at the girl. “A sword? You fight with a sword?”

The girl’s eyes darted nervously towards her father. “I’m learning. My father and the Master of Arms teach me. It’s… better suited for my size.”

_Gods. Cersei would be jealous. She always wanted a sword instead of a needle._

As the song came to an end, Jaime leaned into her ear. “Remember what I said. They’re not worth your tears.”

Raising her hand to his lips, Jaime placed a chaste kiss to her knuckles as he would any noble lady. He turned on heel and stalked towards the boys in the corner. Their eyes went wide at the sight of him. Jaime’s white cloak billowed at his back, and a snarl curled his lips,

Grabbing the one who started the dancing, Jaime hauled him close by the jerkin. His voice was a warning as he spoke to the group through gritted teeth.

“You know who I am? Have you heard tales of the evil Kingslayer?”

The boys’ eyes went impossibly wider. Several nodded dumbly as he spoke. “If I did _that_ to my king, imagine what I would do to miserable shits like you who mock a young girl. Do that again, and I’ll return to this island to remove your pathetic little cocks.”

When the boy in Jaime’s grasp pissed himself, Jaime smiled widely, knowing his message was received. The boy ran from the hall crying in embarrassment and fear. With a false smile, Jaime tilted his head at the boys.

“Now, go apologize to the lady. Do so sincerely. I would hate to become angry at this lovely event.”

Returning to his spot against the wall, Jaime saw Brienne’s eyes wide in shock. The boys quickly approached and began apologizing urgently; her face flushing at the words. When her eyes moved towards her father, Jaime followed her gaze. Renly and Selwyn stood dumbfounded in the corner watching the scene unfold.

Shaking his head as though clearing a fog, Renly approached and bowed courteously. He extended his hand to Brienne and led her around the hall in another dance.

_Good. Took him long enough._

**Bran**

Bran stood beside Septa Roelle as the ball carried on around them. Leaning close to her side, Bran whispered knowing full well that she would think herself mad when she heard the words, but saw no one at her side.

“You’re a proper cunt.”

Sure enough, Roelle’s eyes darted to her left. She glanced around with a scowl on her face, but there was no one to reprimand. Bran had seen far more than this night in visions past. He saw the nasty woman verbally assault Brienne on a regular basis. Were it not for Roelle, Bran was confident that Brienne would have possessed far more confidence in matters of the heart.

Looking across the hall, Bran smirked as Jaime resumed his place against the wall.

_I only meant for them to meet and potentially bond. I did not think he’d beat Renly to dance with her._

Of course, Jaime acted gallantly to save a young girl form ridicule. Just as Bran looked into Brienne’s past, he had looked into Jaime’s. He saw all the battles that Jaime waged on behalf of Tyrion. It was also for Tyrion that Jaime had attacked Ned in the streets.

Bran’s eyes moved to Brienne as she danced with Renly. The first time Bran saw this vision, he saw the youthful adoration in Brienne’s eyes as she looked upon Renly. Now, that look was reserved for Jaime. Renly struck up a casual conversation with Brienne. She returned his kind smiles with formal offerings of her own, but when her eyes would land on Jaime, Bran saw it.

_This will make things more interesting at Riverrun._

**Brienne**

Brienne obediently followed Lady Catelyn into the cell containing Jaime Lannister. It had been six years since she saw him last, but the memory was one that never dulled with time. Brienne took a deep breath as she entered the cell at Catelyn’s back. She recalled the last time she saw him on Tarth.

_Six years prior_

After the ball, Brienne felt restless. The Kingslayer had come to her aid and offered a kindness when no one else ever would.

_The Kingslayer of all people. How could someone such as him offer kindness to a pitiful creature such as me?_

Moving quietly through the halls, Brienne stepped out the back door towards the yards. She walked quickly towards the armory and procured a blunted sword. She had been training for a year now under her father’s and Ser Goodwin’s instruction. After the catastrophe with Ronnet Connington, Lord Selwyn allowed her to pick up the sword. She recalled her desperate words in her father’s study, beseeching him to let her train.

_‘No one will have me. No one will fight for me. My only hope for survival in this world is to defend myself. Please. Let me learn.’_

He had relented. She had surprised him.

Brienne was a natural with a sword. She still had much to learn, but Ser Goodwin put her through daily exercises to strengthen her body and steel her mind.

Stepping into the training yard, Brienne raised her sword and began her steps. It wasn’t long until a voice called out at her back.

“Ah, yes. There it is. The footwork. Not bad.”

The Kingslayer sauntered into the yard looking smug and self-assured. A heat blossomed at Brienne’s cheeks. Her heart began to beat faster as she lowered her head and looked at him through her lashes.

He was the most handsome man Brienne had ever seen.

_How ridiculous we must look. The ugliest girl in Westeros. The handsomest man in Westeros._

Unsheathing his sword, the Kingslayer raised a brow. “I had thought to train alone, but here you are. How about another dance?”

Brienne’s eyes went wide at the offer. A strange conflict bubbled deep within. He had killed his king; broken his oath and sullied the white cloak. At the same time, he had saved her that night. She felt foolish for regarding him so highly earlier, but no one had ever done something so kind for her.

With a nod, Brienne raised her sword. They sparred for some time with Brienne losing every time. His skill was incredible, and Brienne mused that she was likely sparring the greatest swordsman in the kingdoms.

Along the way, the Kingslayer offered pointers to improve her form and cuts. When they stopped sparring after near an hour, Brienne thanked him for the offered lessons. She stared at him for a moment; her head cocked to the side.

The Kingslaye raised a brow. “Are you so overcome by my beauty that you’ve gone mute?”

Brienne flushed at the words. She startled and stepped back slightly. “I just… I didn’t mean to stare. I… I don’t understand it. I suppose… I don’t see how you did it.”

When his eyes narrowed in question, Brienne sucked in a deep breath. “I am not someone worthy of rescue. I… I know what I look like, but… you helped me. I… don’t see how someone can be capable of such kindness, but kill their king. Why? I mean to say… why did you do it?”

The question startled him. For a moment, he stood staring at her in shock. Then he spoke. “You know all the details of the siege? You know my father was at the gates?”

Brienne knew. Everyone knew. Still, it made little sense. In Brienne’s mind, things were black and white. A knight was either good or bad; honorable or dishonorable. At the ball, Jaime had demonstrated that he was capable of good, and Brienne’s brain could not reconcile that he had done something bad.

With a nod, Brienne affirmed as much. “I know he was, but… you had a proper reason, did you not?”

Another heavy silence fell over them as the Kingslayer stared at her dumbfounded. He looked to the ground and spoke softly as though speaking any louder would transport him back to the day.

Wildfire. Pyromancer. Burn them all.

Now as Brienne stood staring at Jaime Lannister, he looked nothing like the shining knight from so many years ago. Then again, looks were deceiving. She had learned as much over the years. Behind a cocky façade and cutting smile, Brienne learned the truth of the greatest knight she ever met.

She had kept his secret, but she struggled to hear the moniker ‘kingslayer’ uttered over the years. More than one fight was waged on his behalf; a defense he would never know of.

The war had been particularly grating. While proudly served at Renly’s camp while rumors swirled of Joffrey’s lineage, Brienne could not stomach hearing the men throw around the name; Kingslayer. Of course, serving Renly was the proper thing to do.

The banners had been called, and Brienne would fight for Renly. Stannis was not favored in the Stormlands, and her father did not care for the older Baratheon. While it went against birth order, Tarth backed their liege lord; Renly.

The thought of facing Ser Jaime in battle saddened Brienne, but it would hardly be the first time a soldier had to face someone he or she respected. More so, it had broken Brienne’s heart when she heard the truth of it all. The image she built up of Jaime crumbled at the word. Incest.

In many ways, it made sense. Tales of the queen’s beauty were as widespread as tales of Jaime’s skill with a sword. Further, it explained the truth of why he continued to serve as a Kingsguard after Robert’s pardon, particularly when Tyrion was the only other heir to the Rock. By Jaime’s own admission, Tywin would never recognize the younger Lannister.

Jaime had shared some truths about serving under Aerys. It sounded traumatic, and at the time, Brienne had wondered why he continued to serve after Robert’s pardon. On Tarth, he had only responded stiffly. _‘Kingsguard serve for life.’_

Standing in the cell at Riverrun, Brienne appraised the man she once thought the most handsome in Westeros. He was filthy; covered in mud, shit, and piss. On account of the smell, she mused that even the lice might flee and take residence elsewhere. His body was much thinner from so many moons chained to a post.

When Jaime’s head lifted and he looked over Catelyn’s shoulder, a smirk tugged at his lips. His eyes drifted back to Catelyn as he spoke. “The last time you visited me, Lady Stark, you smashed a rock across my face. It seems now you prefer to hit me with an entire island.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're off! Third time's a charm for Bran. No more death for Brienne (nor will Jaime die). Next up, a little journey through the Riverlands.


	5. I’ll Fight For Your Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne set out across the Riverlands per their oath to Lady Catelyn.

**Brienne**

“Was the sack over my head necessary?”

Brienne threw the filthy covering to the ground after. With a heavy sigh, she raised a brow at him. “Was pushing Bran Stark from a window necessary?”

She hated him for that. It wasn’t the man she knew, but then again, neither was his committing incest. The two sides of Jaime Lannister had rattled Brienne’s world.

The man she loved from afar after a dance on Tarth was chivalrous, kind, and honorable. The most selfless act she had ever known was at his hand; killing the Mad King.

The man she hated while serving Lady Catelyn was dishonorable, incestuous, and loathsome. The most reprehensible act she had ever known was at his hand; pushing a boy from a window.

Brienne could forgive Jaime the incest. For years, she tried not to love him, but it wasn’t a choice she could make. If Jaime truly loved his twin, it wasn’t a choice he could make either. Despite Brienne’s unrequited love and devotion to the man before her, she couldn’t move past the crime against Lady Catelyn’s son.

With guilt heavy in his eyes, Jaime glanced away. “I… He saw us. Me and my… sister.”

Bile rose in Brienne’s throat as she shoved him forward. She shook her head in reply; the words falling from her mouth muttered. “That’s not you.”

Brienne couldn’t accept it. She couldn’t accept it and she hated herself for still loving him. Everything she stood for made her feel shame for loving a man who could shove an innocent boy from a window.

_It wasn’t Bran’s fault he saw them. It was their fault for doing it._

They walked in silence for some time. At several points, Jaime glanced over his back as though trying to catch her eye. Still, they walked forward in silence. Eventually they came to a boat which Brienne directed him into. They sailed downstream quietly in the hope of avoiding either army.

With a deep sigh, Jaime glanced at the shimmering water as the sun’s rays danced over it.

“If being caught only meant my death, I’d have taken it.”

Brienne’s brows furrowed at the words. She glanced to Jaime as she rowed; a question in her eyes.

He swallowed thickly and looked to his chained hands. “I didn’t want the children to be killed for my crimes. I didn’t want Cersei to die either.”

It was still wrong, and Brienne wanted to throttle him. She wanted to drown him in the river and send his lifeless body to Winterfell. Despite that, she felt a softening deep within. Brienne understood the severity of the crime, and it was all but guaranteed death for Jaime, Cersei, and the children.

Biting her lip, Brienne glanced ahead. “Did you consider _not_ fucking you sister at Winterfell?”

“Did you consider _not_ growing even taller since we last met!?”

Brienne rolled her eyes at the words. The analogy was cruel, but not lost on her. He could no sooner control his love and want of Cersei than she could control her absurd size… or love of him.

When Brienne found a place downstream to pull ashore and stop for a meal, she was aghast to find dead tavern girls swinging in the breeze. Jaime beseeched her to keep moving, but she refused.

_That could be me someday. No one would care to bury me, but I’ll care to bury them._

Then three Stark men came and boasted at their work. Brienne could feel her skin crawling with every vile word and snide smile as they appraised the women. They had noticed Jaime then. Of course, Jaime had asked to be untied before the men were upon them, but Brienne didn’t need to.

_What for? There are three of them and one of me. I have the advantage._

The men did as Ser Goodwin taught Brienne they would. They underestimated her. When Brienne stood over the last man and pulled her sword from his gut, she took a deep breath and glanced at Jaime.

He stood rooted in place and gaping at her. “Those were Stark men.”

“I don’t serve the Starks. I serve Lady Catelyn.”

Walking towards the rope that held the women high above, Brienne prepared to cut it down, but then she heard Jaime’s voice at her back.

“You still grimace when you lunge.”

**Jaime**

Since the moment Jaime’s palm pushed into Bran Stark’s chest, Jaime hated himself more than words could describe. It was a stain he could never wipe away no matter how many baths he took, or masks of callousness he wore to hide the shame. His words cut deep to play at indifference, but inwardly, it was himself he despised.

With Brienne as his captor, it felt as though the gods aimed to punish Jaime in the cruelest of ways. The only person to know his greatest secret and think him a worthy knight, now looked at him like he was the Kingslayer again.

It was the first time since earning the moniker that Jaime believed it. For years, Jaime continued fucking his twin in darkened rooms and concealed locations. For years, blue eyes judged him in his dreams.

After leaving Tarth, Jaime could not stop considering how Brienne would judge each action taken. In the brief time together on Tarth, Brienne had become Jaime’s conscience; adjudicating all his actions honorable or dishonorable. He questioned whether she would approve or disapprove.

Jaime didn’t know why, but the opinion of the girl he met on Tarth counted more than he cared to admit. She had looked to him as though he was a good man, and Jaime felt overcome by it. No one had ever regarded him so highly. He wanted to do right by her; even when she wasn’t present and had no way of knowing of his actions.

He had been that once. Like Brienne, Jaime looked to the great knights before him and idolized them. He wanted to be ranked among the greatest in the history of the Seven Kingdoms; Ser Arthur, Ser Barristan, and the Blackfish.

For years, Brienne carried a part of Jaime that no one else did. She carried his truth. Of everyone in the realm, Brienne was the only person equipped to judge him fairly. She was the only person who asked _why_. Now her eyes were passing judgement, and Jaime hated what he saw.

_She isn’t wrong. I didn’t want to push that boy anymore than she wanted to hear my admission._

Then she killed the Stark men before his eyes, and Jaime felt something _different_ stir within. Much to Jaime’s embarrassment, his cock twitched at the sight. It felt wrong somehow, and he tried to tease it away by commenting on her lingering grimace.

Brienne had changed considerably in six years. Of course, she grew taller. That much was no surprise. Her face had changed too. Perhaps on account of her shorter hair, Jaime could see more of her. She was still no beauty, but she had grown into her features. Her lips were still thick, but her mouth no longer seemed to dominate her face. Her freckles were brighter and more plentiful than before, but they were eclipsed by her eyes.

Somehow, Brienne’s eyes looked even bluer. They still held the youthful innocence that Jaime noticed on Tarth, but there was something else there now; a courage and resolve that Jaime admired.

Brienne had also grown more confident. The shy and timid girl on Tarth was replaced by a soldier. She stood tall and proud in her armor. When she killed the Stark men, her sword arm boasted a sureness not present six years ago. Jaime noted with dismay however that her armor didn’t fit.

_Why doesn’t she have custom armor? That looks borrowed from Tarth’s armory._

The rest of the day passed in a blur of confused thoughts. When Jaime fell asleep that night, his dreams were still haunted by blue eyes, but the eyes were different. The eyes he saw behind his lids for the past six years had been innocent and questioning. Those eyes had considered and judged Jaime in his dreams.

The eyes he saw now were more mature. They were the eyes of a woman grown. The eyes of a woman now his equal. Jaime found his body reacting to _those_ eyes.

Jaime awoke hard and wanting. His heart beat wildly at the dawning realization that for the first time, he had dreamed of a woman other than Cersei in a lustful manner. Willing away the thought and his body’s reaction, Jaime forged ahead.

Over the days, they made idle conversation. Jaime asked after her father, and Ser Goodwin. It was then Jaime learned that her father was enraged at her leaving home, and Tarth’s Master at Arms was dead.

Brienne offered word of Tyrion’s safe return to the city and his position as Lord Hand. The thought of his brother’s intellect and cunning finally being put to good use made Jaime smile. Brienne then shared how Renly was killed.

Had anyone else told the tale of Renly’s death, Jaime would have though the person mad. Coming from Brienne, he knew it had to be true, no matter how unbelievable it sounded.

When they came to a crossing point, they both thought better of taking the bridge. A farmer had spotted them not long back, and of course, _honorable_ Brienne refused to kill the man. They instead walked further downstream and crossed at a shallow section of the river.

Jaime bitched about his boots, but Brienne had a solution for everything. With a fire going and fish freshly caught, the pair ate and laughed loudly at Jaime’s offered stories from his childhood.

Brienne had no fond memories to share.

“How was Renly’s camp?” Jaime stretched out his legs as he leaned against the tree and scratched his belly; the fish slowly digesting and spreading a warmth through his body.

“Lets just say they enjoyed having me around as much as the boys at the ball enjoyed dancing with me.”

Jaime’s face fell at the words. His fists clenched at his sides, but he said nothing more. Before they moved out, Jaime outstretched his chained wrists. “Are these really necessary? I’ve not killed you in your sleep yet.”

“You’ve been tied to trees in your sleep.” Brienne drawled, but then she looked at him uncertainly. The trust that had once been in her eyes on Tarth had yet to return. Begrudgingly, she produced the key and dropped it into his lap. “Just promise that… even if you kill me and flee… you’ll return the Stark girls.”

The words felt like a slap to the face. “Do you believe me about Aerys?”

The question startled Brienne. Her brows furrowed and she appraised Jaime with an incredulous expression. “Of course.”

Here eyes were too honest to lie, and Jaime felt the truth in her words. With a sigh of relief, he nodded and spoke sincerely. “Then trust when I say that I would not harm you.”

They walked for days with seemingly no end in sight. Jaime and Brienne worked together to make camp at night and hunt during the day. Jaime was surprised at the efficient team they made. Both were tired and sore, but they would honor the oath to Lady Catelyn. As they stomped through the woods, Jaime blathered on about the merit of fighting with a sword over a morningstar; Brienne’s first weapon.

Abruptly, Brienne stopped walking. Jaime glanced back to see her hand move quickly to the hilt of her sword. Her eyes were trained on something in the distance, but she said nothing. Before he could question her, Jaime heard a twig break in the direction that Brienne was staring.

Following her gaze, Jaime cursed under his breath as the Brotherhood without Banners stepped towards them.

“Brienne, get behind me.”

Before she could reply, an arrow went whizzing by their heads. Brienne stepped before Jaime and called out. “Stop! I’m transporting a prisoner under orders of Lady Stark.”

Beric Dondarrion smirked at Brienne. “Transporting the Kingslayer. His bannermen killed me and most of our men at the Battle at Mummer’s Ford.”

Pulling open his tunic, Beric displayed a massive scar on his chest. At his side, Thoros smirked; his eyes darting to Jaime.

“Give us the Kingslayer, and we’ll let you live, girl.”

Standing tall before him, Brienne shook her head in refute. “No.”

There were seven men among them including one archer. Jaime shoved in front of Brienne and grabbed one of the swords at her hip.

“I said, get behind me.”

As the men circled them, swords began to cut through the air. The sound of steel crashing together echoed off the trees around them. An overwhelming need to protect Brienne coursed through Jaime’s body. Despite his fatigue and weakness from a year in captivity, Jaime fought harder than he had in years.

Spinning left and right, Jaime cut through his opposition. At his back, Brienne more than held her own. Both were making quick work of the Brotherhood, but then Jaime saw it.

Beric lunged towards Brienne as she was engaged with Thoros and a second man. Without hesitating, Jaime slashed across the gut of an assailant and dove towards Brienne. Jaime’s blade stuck in the dying man’s muscle tissue before he could raise it in time to block Beric’s blade.

Jaime fell into Brienne and sent them both falling to the forest floor. The follow through of Beric’s blade sliced across Jaime’s head, cutting from his left temple and dragging down towards Jaime’s nose. By some miracle, the blade just missed the eye, but Jaime was temporarily blinded as blood poured into his eye as he lay on his side.

Jaime would not see the rest of the fight, but he heard it. The sound of a blade entering flesh, and the unmistakable sound and smell of men dying filled the air. Brienne huffed from exertion and stood protectively over Jaime as the last man met the Stranger.

Pain coursed through Jaime as he clutched his face. Blurred vision from the blood made Jaime panic.

_Gods. I can’t see. Did it nick my eye?_

Brienne’s hands came to Jaime’s face. Her fingertips dug into his cheeks as she appraised the wound. Distantly, Jaime heard her curse and fabric tear. Something was being wrapped around his head and Brienne urged his hands out of the way.

“We need to get this stitched. It’s quite deep.”

Jaime’s entire face hurt, and he began to feel woozy from the blood loss and pain. The last thing Jaime remembered was the feeling of Brienne’s hands on his head. Then the world went black.

Fevered dreams and searing pain consumed Jaime. He slipped in and out of consciousness for days as Brienne cared for him in a cave outside a village. Each time Jaime awoke, it was to the sensation of Brienne tending his wound, helping him drink water, and cleaning his body after he soiled himself.

All Jaime could smell was vomit and shit. He was convinced that he was dying, but Brienne kept pulling him back into the light and away from the interminable darkness. Her voice guided him forward every time Jaime felt himself slipping into the Stranger’s arms.

_“You’ll be alright. I’ll see to it.”_

_“I’ll get you home to Cersei.”_

_“Fight! You must fight this!”_

_“The fever is breaking.”_

Jaime’s unbandaged eye opened and the blurred image of Brienne came into view. Something wet and cool was being placed against his face. The liquid was soothing and made Jaime temporarily forget the pain. In his haze, Jaime could do little more than concentrate on sensations.

He felt Brienne’s warm breath against his skin as she leaned over him and tended his wounds. Jaime leaned into her gentle touch at his cheeks while she placed fresh bandages around his head.

There was a comfort in Brienne’s presence that Jaime couldn’t reconcile. Everything felt as though it would be alright with Brienne at his side. Brienne’s touch was gentler than Cersei as was her disposition. Jaime reflected with great disdain that Cersei would never play at healer for him. She certainly wouldn’t speak reassuringly to him either. She would yell at him for being weak and lazy.

Jaime allowed himself to drift to sleep knowing that Brienne was there to keep them safe. She was a protector. _His_ protector.

Days later, Jaime’s eye opened to the sun’s warmth on his skin. Brienne had fashioned a makeshift sled to transport him and she was actively pulling him through heavily wooded path. Jaime couldn’t see Brienne at the front of the sled, but he knew it was her. She would never have left him to someone else’s care.

Dehydration made it difficult for Jaime to call out to her, but he tried until he caught her ear. The sled stopped moving and was gently set down as Brienne’s face came into view. “Jaime?”

“Hurt.” It was all he could manage. Part of Jaime chastised himself for being weak, but another part, a part long suppressed, longed for nurturing.

A small smile tugged at Brienne’s lips and she crouched beside him. She produced a waterskin from around her shoulder and lifted Jaime’s head to receive the liquid.

“You’ve been unconscious for near a week. The healer I found offered some salves for the cut, and a medicine for the fever, but she warned it may make you drowsy.”

Jaime groaned at the words. His hand moved to his face, but all he felt were bandages. Brienne’s calloused hand tugged his away. “You’re not healed yet, but it looks much better. The blade missed the eye, but it came quite close. I wish you hadn’t pushed me out of the way. This wouldn’t have happened.”

Speaking did not come easy as his throat was sore from disuse. “You’d have died.”

Brienne’s smile faded at the words and she shrugged. “I know you would have honored the oath to Lady Catelyn without me.”

Jaime’s brows furrowed at the words, but the muscle movement sent a jolt of pain through his face and body. At the sight of Jaime’s grimace, Brienne produced a vial from her pocket. “I procured some poppy for you.”

“No! No poppy.” Jaime scowled at the bottle and pushed it away.

“Drink!” Brienne’s tone brokered no argument. With a huff of irritation, Jaime took the poppy and drank. He fell into a deep sleep as Brienne continued their path forward.

When Jaime dreamed, it was overrun with confusing imagery. He saw Cersei turn her back on him when he called out for aid in the darkness. He saw his former sworn brothers pass judgement against him. He saw Brienne holding a flaming sword as she stood protectively before him.

Something shook Jaime awake and he jolted upright. A light coat of sweat covered his body as his breathing labored from the haunting visions in his sleep.

“You’re alright. It was just a dream.” Brienne’s voice spoke soothingly at his side.

A deep pain in his face made Jaime grimace and reach for his head. Squeezing his eye shut, Jaime groaned in agony. At his side, Jaime could hear Brienne rummaging through something. Her hand came to his shoulder and she spoke calmly.

“Have some more poppy. It will help with the pain.”

Jaime shook his head. “No. No more poppy.”

A heavy sigh pushed past Brienne’s lips as Jaime slowly opened his eyes. He could still only see out of one eye on account of the bandages covering half of his head. It was dark out and they were in a cave. A slight chill was in the air and when it met Jaime’s damp skin, he trembled from the cold.

Brienne’s hands encouraged him to lay down. She covered him with a blanket and curled up beside him. As Jaime’s eyes scanned her body, he could see that she had nothing. Her armor was gone, and unlike him, she was on the ground without a bedroll or blanket.

“Where are your things?”

Brienne hesitated slightly at the question. “I… I had no coin for the medicines.”

Realization dawned on Jaime. For the first time in over a week, he appraised himself. His filthy clothing and tattered boots had been replaced as well. To Jaime’s horror, he realized that Brienne had changed him.

“Where… why am I in new clothing.”

Brienne’s face pinked at the words. “You soiled the others… a few times. When the fever broke, I thought it better to simply procure new clothing than continue to try and wash the tattered ones you had.”

With great embarrassment, Jaime recalled fleeting images of Brienne caring for him while he was with fever. “Apologies.”

“Don’t be. You saved my life. It was the least I could do. Just… try to rest.” Brienne rolled over and curled in on herself. A wave of guilt gripped Jaime as he stared at her back. Even from the distance between them, he could see her skin pimple from the chill in the air. The fire did little on cooler nights, and it seemed she had nothing else to cover herself with.

Jaime shuffled closer and draped half the blanket over her body. He had never been in such physical proximity to any woman other than Cersei. At the feel of the blanket draping over her, Brienne’s head turned over her shoulder.

“Keep it for yourself. You need the rest to heal.”

Jaime snorted and shuffled closer. “It’s cold. Besides, two bodies under the blanket will make it warmer.”

Brienne mumbled her thanks and let her head fall back to face the opening of the cave. For what felt like hours, Jaime tossed and turned. The pain in his face was unbearable, but he wanted nothing to do with the poppy.

As Jaime groaned in pain, he lifted his hand to press against his head. The pressure took a bit of the edge off, but the movement caught Brienne’s attention.

“What are you doing?”

Like a child of five, Jaime whined in reply. “It hurts. The pressure helps some.”

Brienne rolled over to face him, and she batted his hand out of the way. Her palm and fingers pressed firm against Jaime’s wound, and she spoke commandingly with her eyes closed. “Sleep or I’ll force the poppy down your throat.”

For a moment, Jaime stared at her face. Having Brienne’s hand applying pressure against the wound felt better than his own; perhaps because it allowed his muscles to relax. As Brienne’s breathing began to even out and she found sleep, Jaime studied her face. Despite his own fatigue, Jaime couldn’t find it in himself to close his eyes.

At the nearness, Jaime could see the smattering of freckles on her cheeks and nose. He smiled softly before glancing out of the cave and up at the night sky in the distance.

_She has a map of the stars on her face. I hadn’t noticed that before._

Soon, Jaime’s lids grew too heavy to keep open. He fell into a peaceful sleep with Brienne’s hand still warm and firm against his face. For the remainder of their trip to King’s Landing, it was the only way that Jaime could find rest. Jaime would drape the blanket over them and snuggle close to Brienne. Her hand rested firm on his face, and in sleep, his hand found her hip or waist.

On colder nights, Jaime woke up mere inches from Brienne’s face. Their foreheads kissed and their legs intertwined. Thankfully, the gods let him find consciousness before Brienne so that he could shift backwards and conceal his tented breeches.

The shift in his regard for Brienne was curious. What started as respect for the young girl he danced with once to save her honor, turned into care, and now something deeper; something he couldn’t quite give name to.

Two days before they arrived at King’s Landing, Jaime’s wound was well enough to remove the bandages. They sat near a stream as Brienne slowly pulled away the dressings and appraised the wound. As she leaned close to apply more salve, Jaime felt his heart quicken. Something about Brienne’s proximity was dizzying and he had an overwhelming urge to close the distance and press his lips to hers.

The thought sent a deep guilt through Jaime. He had never strayed from Cersei, nor did he wish to. Jaime prided himself on his fidelity. Further, Jaime felt guilt for his lustful thoughts for Brienne. She had merely offered him kindness when others would have left him to die. Brienne put his needs before her own, and she sold what little she had to ensure his comfort.

No one had ever offered Jaime gentle touch and warm regard before. No one knew his deepest secret and guarded it as if her own.

“There. It is healing quite well.” Brienne leaned back and smiled at her work. She stood up and walked back to where she was previously sitting to finish polishing her sword.

Taking a deep breath, Jaime leaned over the stream to appraise his face for the first time since the injury. What Jaime saw took his breath away. An ugly scar cut across the upper left side of his head, ran under his eye, and ended just beside his left nostril.

“Seven hells! My face is disgusting!” Jaime spat angrily at his reflection in the water.

Brienne’s voice was soft as she replied without turning around. “It could be worse.”

Jaime swiped angrily at the water to remove the reflection of his scarred face. A tremor of fear ran through him at the thought of Cersei’s reaction. When Jaime spoke next, his tone was bitter and curt.

“How could it be worse!?”

“You could have a face like mine.”

Jaime’s head snapped to meet the back of Brienne’s hunched form. She glanced over her shoulder and offered a weak smile before looking back down at the sword she was polishing.

For a moment, Jaime didn’t know how to respond. He had once thought her face homely just as the boys on Tarth. Just at the men at Renly’s camp. Strangely, none of that mattered any longer. He _saw_ her, and he desired her. 

Moving from his crouched position at the stream to the fallen tree branch beside Brienne, Jaime grabbed her chin and eased her face towards him.

“Don’t say such things about yourself. I told you to ignore unworthy comments like that. They don’t see you properly.”

Brienne huffed a small laugh; her voice thick with resignation. “They see me as anyone sober and with sight would. I don’t mind it. I’ve become accustomed to it.”

Turning back to her blade, Brienne inspected the sword to ensure its shine. Jaime huffed and continued to stare at her face. “I don’t see you as the others do.”

It was the closest that Jaime could come to expressing his confusing feelings for her.

Brienne’s head turned slowly, and she met his eyes. She smiled softly and spoke in a reassuring tone. “Then you should feel the same way about yourself. Those who don’t know you might not see you as others do. I still see only you.”

**Bran**

Bran watched as the pair before him fell deeper into love despite neither giving it name. They both stared longingly at the other; neither noting the shared sentiment.

The rest of their journey back to King’s Landing was uneventful. When they returned, it was to chaos. Joffrey had been poisoned at his wedding, and Tyrion was imprisoned. Sansa had fled, and Cersei flinched away from Jaime’s touch when she saw his scarred face.

Still, Brienne and Jaime leaned on one another for support. When Brienne crumbled at word of House Stark’s demise at the Twins, Jaime held her close and spoke apologetically. When Cersei rejected Jaime out of sheer repulsion, Jaime slipped into Brienne’s room and slept close with her hand on his face as though they were still on the road.

For a week, they discussed options and how best to proceed. Jaime refused to leave the Kingsguard, and Brienne felt the pull to leave the city and find Sansa. It was another week before Jaime presented her with custom armor, Oathkeeper, and a squire.

Bran stood at Jaime’s side as the scarred knight stared longingly at Brienne while she rode away from King’s Landing. Every part of Bran wanted to encourage him in the direction that his mind was already headed. _Go with her._

Bran didn’t say the words.

Bran knew that their paths would cross again. Not much had changed other than Jaime still having two hands, and their bond was stronger than their initial journey together. If only Bran had seen another crucial difference on this path.

Cersei.

The bond between Jaime and Brienne had been too strong to overlook. Cersei’s informants in the castle brought word of Jaime slipping in and out of Brienne’s room. With no trust in her twin, Cersei had someone follow Jaime into the city when he had the armor made and supplies procured.


	6. I’ll Fight For Our Promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cersei ruins Jaime's plans to help Brienne find Sansa. It has a butterfly effect on events to come.

**Tywin**

A knock at the door interrupted Tywin as he wrote rapidly in his study. Leaning back in his chair, Tywin placed the quill down and sighed. The day seemed to stretch on forever. Earlier that morning, Tywin had attended Tommen’s coronation, and conducted his final preparations for Tyrion’s trial.

Muttering to himself, Tywin huffed before calling out. “Enter.”

An attendant pushed open the door and peered inside. “My lord Hand. The queen requests your presence in the throne room.”

“Our king is not yet wed. I do believe you mean my _daughter_ requests my presence in the throne room. What does she want?” 

Unease stretched across the attendant’s face as he bowed and stammered an apology. “Apologies, my lord. Lady Cersei would like to speak with you. Regarding what matters, I am uncertain.”

Tywin stood in a huff and stormed across the room. Without a word, he moved towards the throne room; irritation writ across his face. Castle staff scrambled out of Tywin’s way as he moved quickly through the Keep.

_My daughter forgets herself. I’ll put an end to this nonsense._

As Tywin stepped into the throne room, he observed Cersei standing at the base of the stairs which led to the throne. Six Gold Cloaks and Ser Gregor obscured something on the floor that Cersei was staring at. Her face was the picture of rage as she snarled at whatever lay before her feet.

“Cersei. What is the meaning of this?”

Cersei raised her head to meet Tywin’s eyes. Before she could respond, Tommen entered the room from the side door with the Kingsguard at his back. Tywin glanced at the king and his guards. Whatever or whoever lay before Cersei caught Jaime’s eye. His face paled and his eyes went wide.

As Tywin passed by the Gold Cloaks, he eyed the figure on the floor. Immediately, he recognized the woman from her time in the capital. Brienne of Tarth lay beaten on the floor mere inches from Cersei. At Brienne’s back and by Ser Gregor’s feet, armor and a sword lay piled on the floor.

Tywin’s eyes narrowed at the scene before him. He looked to Cersei once more, but it was Jaime’s expression that intrigued him most.

Jaime began to move towards Brienne, but he took pause; his eyes darting frantically to Cersei. There was a raw fear on his face that surprised Tywin. Any anger Tywin felt at having been sent an insubordinate summons by his daughter was quickly erased.

Tilting her chin up, Cersei spoke venomously. “This cow was caught fleeing the capital in search of Sansa Stark. She stole Lannister property, and I believe she was an accomplice in Joffrey’s murder.”

“What!? She didn’t steal anything.” Jaime’s tone was incredulous. Standing at Tommen’s side, Jaime snarled at Cersei. “What have you done?”

Taking a step towards Jaime, Cersei spoke challengingly. “Is that not _your_ sword brother? The sword father gave you to guard your king?”

Tywin’s eyes appraised the sword at Ser Gregor’s feet. True to Cersei’s words, the Valyrian steel sword he had gifted Jaime lay atop the armor piled on the floor. The armor appeared to have been custom made, and it was unfamiliar to Tywin.

Looking back at his children, Tywin appraised the twins. Their chests heaved with rage as they glared at one another. It was Jaime who spoke next.

“I gave Lady Brienne that sword to find and return _our_ goodsister to King’s Landing. She was sent out under my orders.”

The words echoed in Tywin’s head. He had granted no such allowance to Jaime to make decisions on behalf of the crown. Stepping forward, Tywin moved to speak, but Cersei responded first.

“Your orders!? You are not king nor are you Hand. You can give no such orders.”

Jaime straightened to full height and spoke loudly in response. The rage in Jaime’s voice startled Tommen who stood quietly at his side. “I am Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. It is my responsibility to act in defense of the king.”

Tywin looked to the Tarth girl on the floor. She was beaten badly, and blood pooled on the floor as it dripped from an open wound at her head. Brienne’s face and neck had several blossoming bruises as she slowly lifted her head to glance at the twins.

Catching her movement from the corner of his eye, Jaime’s expression changed from rage to concern. Tywin watched with interest as Jaime moved quickly to Brienne’s side. Crouching before her, Jaime’s hand came to her chin and tilted her face towards him. Tywin felt the air leave his lungs at what he saw in his son’s eyes.

“Brienne, are you alright?”

Tywin looked back at the armor and sword. Everything began to take shape in his mind. If Jaime’s orders were true, though Tywin doubted it, his son had gifted her custom armor and a Valyrian steel sword. No such luxuries were necessary when ample armor and swords were available in the armory. Then there was the look on his face.

_He loves her._

Cersei looked to the guards and pointed an accusatory finger at Brienne. “Put her in the cells! She’ll stand trial with Tyrion for the murder of King Joffrey. She is a Stark loyalist and I’ll have her head.”

Standing from his crouched position, Jaime barked at Cersei. “No! She acted under my orders.”

Rage stretched across Cersei’s features as she took a step towards Jaime. “Are you an accomplice as well? You side with the enemy! This fucking cow who helped kill our king! King Tommen’s brother!”

Jaime’s eyes were a storm as he glared at Cersei. Before he could respond, Cersei moved before Brienne and sneered at her. “Either you stole these things to aid the enemy, or my brother is an accomplice and should lose his head with yours. Which is it?”

Jaime moved to protest, but a weak answer came from the broken woman on the floor. “I stole them.”

“No! She did no such thing. Brienne, don’t lie on my account.”

Before Jaime could finish, Tywin stepped forward. He had heard and seen enough to know what action needed to be taken.

“Enough! I will confer with King Tommen and the Lord Commander in my study. In the meantime, take Lady Brienne to a holding cell befitting her station.”

The guards did as they were bid and grabbed Brienne by the arms, forcibly pulling her upright. Judging by the grimace on her face, she had taken blows to more than the head. Jaime yelled at the guards; his hand moving to the hilt of his sword.

“If she sustains one more injury by your hands, it will cost you your heads.”

As the men began to remove Brienne from the throne room, Tywin narrowed his eyes at Jaime. With little more than an unimpressed glare, Tywin pivoted on his heels. His son and grandson followed towards the study, but an extra set of footsteps caught Tywin’s attention. Glancing over his shoulder, Tywin grumbled at the sight of Cersei trailing closely.

“This matter does not concern you.”

Grabbing at her skirts to enable faster movement of her feet, Cersei moved quickly to Tywin’s side. “I am the king’s mother and have every right to…”

“You have no right. If you wish to argue the point, I’ll arrange for an expedited wedding with Ser Loras.”

The words were enough to halt Cersei’s progress. In a huff of annoyance, she stormed down the opposite hallway. Tywin walked to his study in silence while considering his options. When they arrived at the room, Tywin barked at Jaime and Tommen to sit.

He rounded the desk and took his chair. If Jaime cooperated, Tywin would have his way on several matters. A heavy silence fell over the room as Tywin leaned back and took a deep breath.

“Now is not the time for petty squabbles within our House. We are at war and need allies. Stannis is still rumored to be seeking an army across the Narrow Sea, and our last grasp on House Stark has slipped through our fingers. That leaves us in a precarious position. The ensure continued support from the Reach, Tommen’s marriage to Margaery will continue as planned. To ensure support from the Stormlands, we’ll name Lord Selwyn Tarth as paramount. Jaime will be released from the Kingsguard and wed Lady Brienne.”

At the words, Jaime’s eyes went wide. “What!? You can’t do that.”

“I can and I will.”

Jaime stood in a rage and leaned across the table. “I told you already that the Kingsguard serve for life. I’ll not break another oath.”

“And as I told you, there are grounds for dismissal. King Tommen will release you.”

Tywin glanced at Tommen and raised a brow before returning his attention to Jaime. “Of course, that is assuming you did in fact order Lady Brienne to act on the crown’s behalf. If this is not true, then she is a threat to the crown and will be dealt with accordingly.”

Jaime’s body deflated as he gaped at Tywin. He looked away in frustration and clamped his mouth shut. Tywin could see Jaime’s jaw clenching in thinly veiled rage, but his silence said more than enough.

Looking to Tommen, Tywin tapped the desk with his fingers and narrowed his eyes. “I assume his Grace would agree with the arrangement… assuming his Lord Commander’s intentions were true.”

Tommen offered an apologetic look at Jaime before meeting Tywin’s eyes. With a nod, Tommen agreed.

“I need to speak with your uncle alone for a moment. You’ll make the announcement tomorrow.”

Like an animal freed from a trap, Tommen fled the room. Tywin looked up at his son and spoke sternly.

“Sit. We have much to discuss.”

Jaime did as instructed, but Tywin could sense the rage simmering below the surface. The room was silent once more before Tywin spoke calmly. 

“You’re in love with her.”

The words stunned Jaime and he recoiled as if slapped. He looked wide-eyed at Tywin and stammered, but he was quickly cut off.

“It isn’t a question. Conveniently, she is from a kingdom in open rebellion. You’ll bring me the Stormlands and take your place as lord of Casterly Rock _as you were meant to_. If you don’t, she’ll be executed for treason.”

It was the first time since Aerys that Jaime appeared lost. Jaime quickly turned his head away and considered the words. With a deep breath, Jaime turned his head to meet Tywin’s stare. A new resolve burned bright in his eyes.

“Fine, but you’ll get no heirs from me; not unless Tyrion goes free. Your legacy will die with me if he is not acquitted in this. You know he didn’t do it, and I won’t let him be killed for Cersei’s pettiness.”

Tywin sat back and appraised his son. He considered the words.

_A dwarf for a legacy. I suppose its an even enough trade._

“Deal. Of course, you’ll not leave the city until a pregnancy is confirmed.”

Jaime scoffed at the words. “I’ll not keep Brienne and Tyrion here when Cersei means to see their heads on a spike. She will rage at this and you know it.”

“Cersei will be wed to Loras and sent off to Highgarden. She’ll hardly be a concern.”

Shaking his head in refute, Jaime held firm. “No. Not good enough. I’ll take Tyrion and Brienne to the Rock.

Anger began to build in Tywin. Raising his voice, Tywin spoke sternly. “You will remain in King’s Landing until a pregnancy is confirmed.”

“Then you’ll have my head too. I’ll say that I aided the enemy and be judged accordingly. If you want me to play lord at the Rock, then that is where I’ll take my wife and brother.”

Tywin leaned back and appraised his son. Were Jaime not going against Tywin’s wishes, he would be impressed with his eldest son and heir.

“I’ll write ahead to Genna and the maester. I expect a pregnancy to be announced in a timely manner.”

Without a word, Jaime stood to leave. The look on his face was equal parts relief and irritation. At the abrupt movement, Tywin spoke impassively. “I do not recall dismissing you.”

Jaime rolled his eyes and sighed. His jaw clenched tightly before opening to speak. “Well I think it would be appropriate to visit my betrothed. I do believe I’ll need her willingness for this arrangement to work. I want a proper maester to look after her too. Not that sycophant Pycelle.”

Tywin huffed in annoyance and returned to the missive he was writing earlier. “If she knows what’s good for her, she’ll accept.”

“You don’t know Brienne very well if you think she cares to do what’s best for her.”

**Jaime**

Jaime moved quickly towards the cell that Brienne was being held in. The Gold Cloak at his back scampered at his heels while frantically looking for the correct key. When they reached the cell, the guard scrambled to open the cell door. Jaime’s hand twitched at his side; ready to gut the man if he didn’t move quickly enough.

As the door clicked open, Jaime moved inside swiftly. Like Tyrion’s cell, Brienne’s was well-enough lit and boasted a small cot in the corner. Brienne lay on her side curled in protectively on herself. When their eyes met, she sat up slowly; the effort appearing difficult.

“Ser Jaime.”

Moving quickly to Brienne, Jaime crouched before her. The bruising on her neck and face was horrible, and Jaime had to fight the urge to trace the wounds with his fingers. His hand moved to her head and encouraged Brienne to meet his eyes. Jaime’s fingers curled around the back of Brienne’s neck and rubbed absently as he spoke in hushed tones. “What happened?”

Brienne grimaced as she recounted the ordeal. “We made camp for the night and I thought we were far enough off the road, but I heard soldiers approaching. I had Pod ride far enough away to wait out the fight. In the event I was killed, I gave Pod all my coin and told him to find passage to Tarth. There were too many. Half a dozen with the Mountain. I could only kill four.”

Jaime chuckled at the words. “ _Only_ four. You’re going soft, Lady Brienne.”

“The Mountain. I didn’t even see him at first. He must have held back in the darkness. I only spun around in time to meet the hilt of his blade. After that, I don’t much remember.”

Appraising the wound at her head, Jaime grimaced. “Where else are you hurt?”

Brienne shrugged. “I’m not sure. Everything is sore. They took away the armor and bound my wrists. I couldn’t much block the blows the rest of the way back. I only pray that Pod gets to Tarth.”

Anger pooled in Jaime’s gut. He would see all the men hang who beat an unarmed, bound noblewoman. Jaime felt his grip on Brienne’s neck tighten as his head dropped in frustration. Before he could speak, Brienne spoke softly; her voice pained.

“Would you… could you write my father after it’s done? I just don’t want him to wonder if I’m alive somewhere and neglecting to return home.”

The resignation in Brienne’s voice erased the anger brewing in Jaime. Looking to her, his heart broke at the sorrow he saw. Her expressive eyes held no fear; only acceptance. Jaime recalled her lie in the throne room. A false admission at stealing to spare him from Cersei’s wrath.

“I’ll do no such thing. You’re not dying, Brienne. I won’t allow it.”

Brienne offered a small smile. “I’ll commit to the lie. My life is hardly worth such a fuss and will only put you in a difficult position with your family.”

Shaking his head, Jaime held her eyes. “I made a deal with my father. You’ll not be killed where you did no wrong.”

“A deal?” Brienne’s brows furrowed. The corners of her eyes crinkled slightly, but her left eye could not narrow on account of the swelling.

“I gave my father what he wanted. I’ll be removed from the Kingsguard and take a wife. All he ever wanted was me to play the part of heir.”

Brienne’s eyes went wide at the words. “I’m not worth such a sacrifice. You’re a Kingsguard and swore an oath. And… _her_.”

 _Her. Cersei._ There had been a time when the thought of taking a wife and leaving behind Cersei felt unfathomable. Then Jaime met a pair of blue eyes on Tarth that haunted his dreams. Bienne was the only person to know of Aerys. The first person to believe in him and fight for him.

What he had with Cersei was toxic. For years, things were strained with Cersei, but since returning to King’s Landing, it felt as though a fog had lifted and he saw the truth of her. She was manipulative, power-hungry, and selfish.

With every passing day, Jaime heard tales of the queen’s behavior in his absence. At first, he didn’t want to believe the words. He tried to tell himself that Cersei was merely behaving as a wounded animal would when backed into a corner. He had failed her by being captured. He wasn’t there to protect her when she needed him most.

Then Jaime noted the disgust on her face when she looked at his scar. Jaime heard the venom in Cersei’s voice when she spoke of contrived enemies and his own accused failings. It seemed to Jaime that Cersei cared little for his return.

The girl he once knew and grew up with was gone. Something in her had changed, or perhaps, something in him had changed. Then when Jaime visited Tyrion in the cells, his brother shared the truth of Cersei’s infidelity.

_Lancel. Osmund. All while I felt guilt at thinking about another woman._

Jaime reflected on his emotional infidelity. On the path back to King’s Landing, Jaime tried to push away his evolving feelings for Brienne. The blue eyes that haunted his dreams for years became more than he dared admit to himself until confronted with it by his father.

Watching Brienne ride away from King’s Landing had proven painful. Every part of Jaime wanted to get on a horse and ride off with her, but he couldn’t abandon his brother and responsibilities in the Kingsguard. He had hoped to salvage something with Cersei but seeing the truth of her made that impossible. His heart belonged to Brienne now, and Cersei had never offered hers. Jaime wondered if Cersei even possessed a heart to offer.

Taking a deep breath, Jaime shook his head and met Brienne’s eyes. “There is no _her_ any longer. It would seem that I spent my life loving the _idea_ of her, but not the actual person. I see her clearly now. And as to the Kingsguard, well… it’s a small price to pay. It’s not the first time I’ll break my Kingsguard vows for a different oath. We made a promise to Lady Catelyn and I’ll honor it. I’ll fight for our promise.”

Brienne sighed. When she spoke, her voice was sympathetic. “Well I don’t expect you’ll get to fight for our shared promise if you’re to become Lord of Casterly Rock and take a wife. I’ll fight on our behalf. I swear it.”

A nervous laughter bubbled in his throat. “Yes, well, I think my wife will understand my need to honor the shared promise. My father has already decided on a match for me, and he’ll be making some changes in the kingdoms. Since the Stormlands are still in open rebellion, he’s to name your father as lord paramount.”

Brienne’s eyes went wide. “What? My father? Why? That hardly makes sense.”

“Well… he thinks your father will be easy enough to control through an alliance.”

At the words, Brienne stiffened. “Is he offering my life for my father’s loyalty?”

Jaime felt his neck flame as he continued to crouch before Brienne. “Not quite. More like a marriage alliance.”

Brienne’s eyes narrowed. She shook her head slightly as though the words spoken were foreign. “What?”

“I do hope you won’t put up a stink when we spend our early days as newlyweds looking for Lady Sansa.”

**Brienne**

Brienne stared at her reflection in the mirror as Septa Aemma appraised her work. The older woman winced slightly before forcing a smile. “There you are. It’s… something.”

_A marriage alliance. That’s all this is. It matters little how I look. Jaime is already aware how ugly I am, so the sight of this shouldn’t be too jarring._

The dress was simple enough given the short notice afforded by Lord Tywin. He intended for Jaime and Brienne to wed immediately before setting off to the Rock. Brienne’s father would be at the Keep shortly; his ship spotted by the lookouts just an hour earlier.

Swallowing thickly, Brienne nodded her thanks. The dress on her body would be worn that day for the luncheon with her father and Lord Tywin. On the morrow, Brienne would wed Jaime in what was certain to be another poor attempt at fabricating womanly curves where there were none.

A light knock at the door caught the women’s attention. Septa Aemma moved swiftly to answer it, but whoever was on the side proved too impatient. Pushing into the room, Jaime stood handsome as ever. He wore black breeches with a black leather tunic over a crimson tunic. Widow’s Wail was strapped to his hip and swayed slightly as he moved quickly into the room.

“Your father is…” Jaime’s rushed words died on his tongue when his eyes landed on Brienne. “…here.”

_I suppose this is worse than usual. The dress embellishes my ugliness._

“And _your_ father insisted on this. I’m sorry about it.” Brienne gestured at her body as though explanation enough. Stepping away from the mirror, Brienne bowed her head and moved quickly towards the door.

“I don’t think…” Jaime reached out and tried to halt her progress, but Brienne lacked the courage to see the distaste in his eyes. Instead, she cleared her throat and kept her eyes to the floor.

“Lets get this over with. Though… if you change your mind before tomorrow, I’ll truly understand.”

Brienne played with the fabric of her skirt as her steps slowed and Jaime moved to her side. The dress was a dark blue silk that clung to her body in ways Brienne never before felt. Septa Aemma added some padding to the bodice, but otherwise there was little done to accentuate areas intended to boast womanly curves.

Jaime offered his arm, but when Brienne did not take it, he leaned in and whispered. “We’re to marry on the morrow. Can you at least _pretend_?”

_He wishes me to pretend? I’m hardly the one whose sanity others will question._

Taking his arm, Brienne stared straight ahead as Jaime escorted her to the gardens where Selwyn and Tywin awaited them. 

“Blue becomes you, my lady.” Jaime’s voice was strained, and Brienne felt a pang of sympathy for him. To go from a lover like Cersei to the likes of her must have been difficult to stomach.

“You needn’t speak such falsehoods when it is only us. This is a waste of fabric and the Septa’s time.”

Before Jaime could reply, Cersei rounded the corner in a swirl of well-fitted fabric; her golden hair bouncing as she moved towards them. Jaime’s body stiffened as Cersei neared, and Brienne could feel the tension between the twins.

False pleasantries dripped from Cersei’s tone as she appraised them. “Well look at this. I must say, the two of you look perfect together, particularly now with my brother’s disfigurement. Shall we make our way to the gardens?”

“You are not meant to attend this lunch, Cersei. Go to your room and have a glass of wine or ten.” Jaime spoke through gritted teeth, his eyes locked on his twin.

The queen stepped closer and the proximity made Brienne stiffen. “Come now, Jaime, do you truly think I’d miss this? My beloved brother is to marry on the morrow. I can’t wait for the feast. I do wonder though, at the bedding, will we need two groups of women to strip the newlyweds?”

Jaime snarled at the implication that Brienne was more man than woman, but Cersei only smirked and turned on heel. “Come along. I would hate to keep father waiting.”

Leaning into Brienne’s side, Jaime spoke softly. “Ignore her. She’s miserable on account of the betrothal to Loras Tyrell.”

“I regret that you’re both to be punished with forced marriages.” Brienne held her chin high and walked quickly towards the gardens. At her side, Jaime moved faster to keep pace. His tone was a plea as he grabbed Brienne’s arm.

“I am not being punished, Brienne. I agreed.”

A sad smile tugged at Brienne’s lips when she met his earnest eyes. “You’re a good man, Ser Jaime. Honorable. I trust you’ll keep your oath to Lady Catelyn. I only fear what this means for your prospects _after_.”

Jaime remained silent for the rest of the walk to the gardens and Brienne was thankful for it. Pretty lies were for court; a place she would never belong. Brienne preferred her words pointed like as sword. There was no lie to fall for or false hope to hold.

Cersei arrived only a moment before them and sat opposite Selwyn. With Tywin at the head of the small table, it left only a seat beside Cersei and one beside Selwyn. It was clear that Cersei intended to sit beside Jaime rather than afford Brienne the honor.

Moving to greet her father, Brienne offered a tight smile. “Father.”

Selwyn’s hug was stiff and uncertain. After Brienne fled Renly’s camp with Lady Stark, she had not written to Tarth, though she imagined rumors reached its shores. The Stormlands called her a kingslayer, and her newest betrothal likely earned many a laugh.

_I suppose I have that much in common with Jaime._

“I’m glad you’re well, child.” Selwyn cleared his throat and resumed his seat.

Across the table, Cersei raised a brow and looked between the Tarths. “Well, I can see where my future goodsister gets her size from. You make the Mountain look like a pebble, Lord Selwyn.”

Brienne cringed at the words meant in insult. She knew her size to be as regrettable as her face. Glancing right, Brienne watched her father’s facial muscles tense in anger. He was not a man for witty words and riddles. He spoke plainly and ruled with transparency.

“I believe that similarity with Ser Gregor is the only shared. On Tarth, we hold our knights to a higher standard.”

Honor was something that the Mountain would never be known for. Unfortunately, Brienne gathered that her father’s statement applied to more than Ser Gregor. Selwyn’s eyes darted briefly to Jaime, but the conversation died there.

Tywin sat back and appraised the table. He spoke commandingly as though they were gathered for a war council rather than a pre-wedding introduction of Houses.

“The wedding is to be held early on the morrow with a feast to follow. King Tommen will announce your new status as Lord Paramount of the Stormlands at court this afternoon. I trust this alliance will find your kingdom on better terms with the crown. Rumors swirl of Stannis gathering sellswords across the Narrow Sea, and the Stormlands will be expected to answer King Tommen’s call when the time comes.”

Selwyn’s eyes darted to Brienne. There was a raw sorrow there that Brienne had not seen in years. With little more than a nod, Selwyn took a sip of his wine.

“And what of the dowry to House Lannister?” Cersei’s voice chirped from across the table. “Your House has been raised beyond its station, and your daughter is to wed the eldest son and heir of a Great House. What do you think her worth?”

Selwyn shifted uncomfortably in his seat; his eyes darting to Tywin. “The crown has called for this match. It was not I who proposed it.”

Tywin ground his teeth at the exchange. His eyes shifted to glare at Cersei; his gaze pinning her in place. “Lord Selwyn will offer us the loyalty of the Stormlands.”

A snide smile stretched across Cersei’s face before she countered. “As you offered the loyalty of the West to King Robert. I’ve no doubt that Lord Selwyn will play his part in any wars to come, but of course, even our House offered the crown so much more than loyalty. Were it not for our House, the crown would be in ruin or forever indebted to the Iron Bank. Surely Tarth can offer something for…” Cersei’s eyes darted to Brienne as she spoke. “… _that_ to have the honor of wedding into House Lannister and being afforded such elevation.”

Brienne knew that Tarth had little in way of resources. The island was known for its marble, but not its coin. In recent years, trade had struggled as demand for marble decreased.

“You’ve the right of it, sweet sister. House Lannister did have to pay a small fortune to encourage King Robert to take you off our hands. I can assure you that I require no such monetary incentive in wedding Lady Brienne. Our marriage will be rich in other things.”

Jaime’s words were too kind and much appreciated. Like the ball on Tarth, he meant to rescue her dignity; for what little she had of it. With a warm smile in appreciation, Brienne met Jaime’s eyes. His returning gaze was softer than was warranted to appease their fathers that the marriage would be true, but she appreciated it nonetheless.

Cersei’s hand came to Jaime’s jaw and stroked it tenderly. “My sweet, brother. Always so romantic. Very _giving_ too.”

The undertones were clear and the thought of how much the twins shared unsettled Brienne. She squirmed in her chair and cast her eyes to her lap. Jaime batted Cersei’s hand away and spoke with feigned curiosity.

“Some like to give, others like to take. I wonder sister, what will you _take_ from Ser Loras?” 

Brienne’s eyes went wide as she stared uncomfortably at her lap. House Lannister had sharp tongues and even sharper minds. Before the conversation could become overrun by an exchange of barbed words, Selwyn spoke at Brienne’s side. His comments brought silverware to a clatter and jaws to the table.

“So long as there is no giving and taking of an altogether _profane_ nature. An unfounded rumor passes like a weak breeze on a cloudy day. A rumor founded on truth is like a storm at sea. It makes its presence known and leaves a wake of destruction in its path. My daughter will not be used to mask _unnatural_ relations.”

Brienne could not recall the last time she heard her father speak so angrily. His voice shook the table where they sat, leaving even Lord Tywin at a loss for words. Everything seemed to still around them as Brienne’s wide eyes lifted first to her father, and then the table occupants.

Cersei and Tywin appeared affronted, whereas Jaime’s face was riddled with shame. He held Selwyn’s eyes and shook his head in refute. “Of course not, Lord Tarth.”

The sincerity in Jaime’s eyes was as clear as the scar on his face. At Jaime’s reply, Tywin snarled. “Those are ill-founded, treasonous rumors that will not be given credence. It is an insult to my House and the crown that they are raised here.”

Selwyn’s head turned to Tywin. The tension was palpable as Selwyn’s next words were spoken sternly. “And when my daughter is wed to your son, she is a part of your House, just as he is part of mine. We will forever be linked. I do believe that grants me right to ensure that such rumors remain _just that_.”

The heads of House Tarth and House Lannister glared at one another. It was the first time that Brienne saw Cersei’s face devoid of confidence and color. Her jaw was tight, and her eyes shifted towards her father. The wine cup before her sat untouched, though her fingers outstretched as though reaching for sanctuary.

“I would speak with you in private Lord Tarth if that helps pacify any concerns you have.” Jaime’s voice had a desperate edge to it as his eyes darted between the older lords.

Brienne prayed to the Seven that her father relented and accepted Jaime’s offer. Glancing at her side, Brienne watched as some of the tension left her father’s shoulders. He nodded in reply. “Very well, Ser Jaime. After lunch we will have words. In the meantime, perhaps some can enlighten me as to why my daughter appears to have been used as a practice dummy in the yards.”

_Oh. I forgot about that._

By the grace of the gods, the lunch ended quickly enough. Selwyn had, for the time, accepted Tywin’s reasoning behind Brienne’s assumed treason and theft of the crown’s property. When Jaime spoke with Selwyn, Brienne found her father assuaged, though still hesitant.

“I know the boy did you a kindness once, but you don’t have to do this Brienne. Whatever mess you find yourself in, I’ll not see you punished for the rest of your days. I’ll take you to Essos if need be.”

Shaking her head in refute, Brienne spoke as much to herself as her father. “I’ll gladly keep this vow.” Selwyn thought of wedding vows. Brienne thought of vows to Lady Catelyn.

Through it all, Selwyn brought one bit of light. Pod had arrived in King’s Landing for the wedding. The young man had made it to Tarth as Brienne hoped, and Selwyn cared for him after hearing the ordeal.

Pod’s words aligned with the information shared by Tywin as to why Brienne was attacked by the guards. That night as Brienne walked the gardens with Selwyn, Pod, Jaime, and Tyrion, the older lord’s brows furrowed, and he glanced at Brienne.

“Did I mention what happened to your Septa? A most curious thing.”

Pod snickered at Selwyn’s words, but he quickly bit his lip and swallowed the laughter. At the young man’s reaction, Brienne’s brows furrowed. “No…”

A heavy sigh pushed past Selwyn’s lips and he leaned on the wall of the terrace. “It was so strange. After you left for Renly’s encampment, I kept her on staff. She had offered to help care for the son of my new master-at-arms. At times, I would see her in the gardens swatting at the air, and scowling. Well not long after your friend here showed up, she truly lost it.”

Brienne’s eyes darted between Selwyn and Pod. Her father seemed confused as he told the tale, but Pod was amused. At Pod’s side, Jaime leaned in curiously. They had spoken briefly of Septa Roelle on the journey through the Riverlands. Jaime had recalled the woman’s scowling face from the ball. His opinion of Roelle seemed quite low, but it became far worse when Brienne shared some of Roelle’s _lessons_. _‘Your septa sounds like a proper cunt.’_

With confusion writ across his face, Selwyn continued as he stared out at the sea. “Well either way… Pod had just arrived at the island the day prior. I was speaking with him in the yards, but I saw Roelle run out from the castle. She was flailing and swatting at nothing; yelling some nonsense. The staff heard it clear as day. ‘I’m not a cunt.’ She… ran to the harbor. Took a rowboat and began rowing away from the island into the middle of the bloody sea, all the while continuing to say the phrase over and over again. I mean where did she suppose she was going? Essos? Bloody fool. You can’t row across the sea to Essos from Westeros.”

Jaime guffawed and quickly moved to cover his mouth. At the reaction, Selwyn’s brows furrowed in confusion. Swallowing down a laugh of her own, Brienne pressed her lips into a thin line and shrugged. “I hardly know, father.” 

The next day passed in a chaotic swirl. Saying her vows was a blur of disjointed imagery. Cersei’s scowl. Tywin’s contrite expression. Selwyn’s trepidation. Jaime’s smile. When Jaime’s lips touched hers, Brienne could almost forget that the marriage was false. Almost.

The feast was ostentatious and wholly unnecessary. Only Selwyn, Tywin, Brienne, and Jaime seemed to remain sober through it all. King Tommen was kind enough to allow the couple a private retreat from the feast without the indignity of hands pulling at fabric. In the privacy of their chambers, there was no bedding. Brienne was both relieved and disappointed when Jaime’s only touch came from his fingers grazing her back as he unlaced her dress and they prepared for bed.

As they did every other night, they slept close together; Brienne’s hand pressed against Jaime’s face, and his hand at her hip. As Jaime drifted off to sleep, Brienne reminded herself that this was little more than a false marriage to honor a shared oath to Lady Catelyn. It mattered little how much being married to a man she longed for would bring nothing but emotional torture.

They would find Sansa while leveraging House Lannister’s resources in the West. Then Jaime could be free of her. A week later, Jaime, Brienne, Pod, Bronn, and Tyrion prepared to leave for the Rock. Glancing at their small group, Jaime smirked as they began down the same path that Jaime last sent Brienne out on.

“Shall we try this again?”


	7. I’ll Fight for Our Allies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne await word of Sansa's whereabouts. They go on a "ride" when they receive information.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW content ahead

**Jaime**

“You’re in love with your wife.”

Jaime snorted at Genna’s claim. The accusation in her tone did not go unnoticed. “What a very odd thing to reproach me of. Surely there is a far more worthy false charge you can berate me for.”

Genna’s eyes rolled as she glanced up from the missive she was writing. “ _False_ charge? Do you think me a fool, Jaime?”

A warning gaze halted Jaime’s retort and pinned him in place. Satisfied by his silence, Genna looked back to her missive and sighed. “Why have you not consummated your marriage? You love the girl. She loves you. I find it difficult to believe that _you_ of all people are suddenly unable to unlace your breeches. It isn’t as though you can’t claim this love openly.”

Jaime startled at the words. While Tyrion had spoken openly of Jaime’s incestuous relationship with Cersei in years past, Genna always avoided such insinuations. The only thing more shocking to Jaime was Genna’s assumption about Brienne’s regard for him.

“Are you pressing an ear to our chamber door at night? You know very little about my marriage, just as you know very little about my wife.”

Genna snorted and finished the missive with her unnecessarily large signature before sealing it. “You’ve been here for three moons now, Jaime. The pining between the pair of you is unbearable, and the only thing you’ve accomplished is the ruining of perfectly good hand towels.”

“Aunt Genna!”

With a grunt, Genna stamped the hot wax with the Lannister sigil. “Cost me a small fortune too. Shame seeing such fine linens cracked in half from misemploy.”

Jaime could feel his cheeks burning from embarrassment. He stood to leave, but Genna barked at him to sit. “Jaime Lannister, don’t you dare leave this room without answering me. Why have you not consummated your marriage?”

“I don’t want a political marriage. You know this.”

The words were not untrue. Despite his feelings for Brienne, they found themselves in a forced marriage to assuage his father and afford them the necessary resources to fulfill their oath to Lady Catelyn. For weeks on end, Jaime sent scouts in all directions to bring him a lead. He had agreed to take a sizeable group of bannermen with them once they knew a direction to head.

Until that information came, Jaime and Brienne sat impatiently at the Rock. The only thing worse than awkwardness of their false marriage was the crass commentary from Bronn. Only days into the journey west, the sellsword under Tyrion’s employ had noticed Jaime’s longing stares and soft eyes. Jaime wanted Brienne more than he wanted anything in his miserable life, but she was not his to claim. 

Genna pushed back her chair wordlessly and rounded the desk. Her fingers curled around Jaime’s jaw and lifted his chin to meet her gaze.

“I’ve never known you to be craven in love. You’ve gone to war for it… and unintentionally started war because of it. Now you finally have someone worthy of that fierce love, and you run from it. Why?”

Loving Cersei had never been a choice or a question. They were twins and a familial love existed well before other desires came into play. Of course, Jaime understood now that what he and Cersei shared was not romantic love. There was nothing romantic nor loving about the way they treated one another.

What Jaime felt for Brienne frightened him. There was a vulnerability with Brienne that never existed with Cersei. Jaime never felt a fear of rejection from his twin. Cersei instigated much of their twisted relationship, but Jaime had eagerly indulged her and offered more of himself over time as she offered less.

“How I feel for Brienne is irrelevant if she doesn’t want it.”

Genna’s eyes narrowed as her hand held his chin firmly between her fingers. “Why do you think it unrequited?”

“She isn’t like me or Cersei. She’s kind, honorable, decent, and selfless. Brienne only accepted this marriage to carry out her oath to Lady Catelyn. We intend to find Sansa and deliver her home.”

Something clouded Genna’s eyes that was a warning. Whether the expression was in reply to Jaime’s remark about Brienne’s disposition, or Jaime’s admission of their true objective, he could not say.

“Let me be clear, Jaime. You could not be more dissimilar to Cersei if you tried. A nameday is the only thing you share. Cersei is Brienne’s opposite as you described the girl. Brienne is your match. You are kind, honorable, decent, and selfless. All the things that Cersei could never be. Brienne sees that in you. I can see it in her eyes when she looks upon you, and I’ve heard it in her voice when she speaks of all you’ve done for her. Now to your second point…”

Genna released Jaime’s chin and leaned close. “Do not do anything foolish. I’ll hear no more of your intent to support our House’s enemies. You are lord and warden. Act like it.”

The words were a dismissal as Genna stood to full height and pulled open the door of the study. Jaime sighed and exited the room; happy to be in a less exposing environment. It took another moon turn for Jaime to defy his aunt.

Word arrived from one of Jaime’s informants that Lord Baelish was seen escorting a young woman of Sansa’s age north from the Crossroads. The girl was black of hair, but otherwise fit Sansa Stark’s description and age.

Jaime sent a scout north to follow the group from the Vale. Littlefinger’s party was less than discreet as they proudly flew the Vale’s banners. Word soon returned that rumors swirled at Winterfell of Sansa’s return. The young girl was going under a false name, but castle staff new her well enough. Ramsay Bolton meant to wed his legitimized bastard to the girl as a means to secure the North.

Jaime realized that Lord Bolton would play both sides; Tywin and the North. To Tywin, Roose’s son would wed Alayne Stone to give House Bolton the next generation of heirs.

To the North, House Bolton sought to solidify their claim by parading the last known Stark in front of them. Her false first name was irrelevant. It was her recognized lineage they sought to secure loyalty.

_What would Littlefinger have to gain from this? Why turn on the crown and risk his own life?_

Jaime did not have the mind for politics, but he did have Tyrion. Moving into Tyrion’s room, Jaime shared the information from his informant. He waited as Tyrion stroked his chin and considered the implications.

“He must have a strategic move yet made. If he has allied the Vale with the North, they would still not have enough to challenge the crown. There must be another kingdom at play… or two. The Riverlands likely holds a grudge against the crown, and if Lord Bolton is still allied with House Frey, that would give them a more sizeable rebellion. Still, I don’t see what Littlefinger’s end game is. He did try to secret Sansa from the city once before Joffrey’s murder. Something about the way he looked at Lady Sansa always unnerved me…”

Tyrion stood and paced the room. The sight of the younger Lannister’s mind working always struck Jaime a dangerous thing. Like his father, Tyrion had a knack for politics. Where many played the game with swords, Tyrion played the game with cunning.

“The kingdoms already question the legitimacy of Tommen’s crown. That would make conquering easily accepted. Still, the crown is believed to have the Reach and the West. Our combined forces alone would overrun the North, Vale, and Riverlands. Unless…”

Tyrion’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Unless they have allied with Stannis. Father had word of his attempt to raise another army across the Narrow Sea. If he secured one, he could conquer the throne. I don’t see any reason that the North, Vale, and Riverlands could seek an alliance with Stannis, unless they simply despise the crown that much. The crown is weak now. Perhaps they merely mean to choose the winning side as father once did.”

To see Tyrion without a definitive answer was unnerving. Littlefinger was an unknown and equally cunning. Trying to read his approach proved difficult without more information.

With a heavy sigh, Jaime met Tyrion’s eyes. “Well then, I best bring the full army.”

“The full army?” Tyrion stepped closer; his eyes narrowing in question.

“I do believe Littlefinger and House Bolton have your wife. Should we not move to rescue her?”

Tyrion snorted at the words. “That was hardly a marriage, Jaime.”

“You cloaked her, did you not? She is under the protection of House Lannister. I swore a vow…”

“Lady Catelyn is dead, Jaime. Moving against father’s allies will only anger him.” Tyrion’s tone was low and warning, but his face softened when he spoke next. “I too wish to ensure Sansa’s well-being, but is poking the North and the Vale the appropriate approach? We could set off another war. There must be a safer way to ensure Sansa’s safety than marching the entire army north.”

“It is the _only_ approach. All you’ve offered is speculation as to why they might be seeking such a secretive wedding. The fact remains that they have your wife. Is it unreasonable that the West would move to protect the wife of Lord Tyrion Lannister?”

Tyrion conceded the point with a nod. “Father will be displeased, but if this works, it would solidify the crown’s position and it will spare most of your ass.”

With a smug smile, Jaime moved towards the door. “It will save all of my ass. I’ll honor the oath to Lady Catelyn. I’ll honor the promise to Brienne. I’ll return your _loving_ wife to you. I’ll secure the North for the crown. I’m calling the banners. We ride out in a week.”

Without awaiting Tyrion’s reply, Jaime moved from the room and towards his study. Ravens flew out within an hour, calling the banners and instructing the army to amass outside Lannisport within a week. When he finished, Jaime made his way towards his chambers.

Given the hour, it was likely that Brienne was bathing before supper. To Genna’s horror, Brienne spent much of her time in the yards training Pod. The young man had come a long way, and Jaime was pleased to see the bond they had forged.

Jaime moved into their chambers, expecting to find Brienne in the smaller, attached room where staff prepared her baths. The missive in his hand carried with it the one thing that Brienne desired most; a way to honor her oath.

When Jaime shut the door behind him, he moved into the room and noticed the door of the adjoining room ajar. Through the small opening, Brienne stood naked as her nameday as she dried her wet, flushed skin. The heat of her baths always startled Jaime. A true southerner, Brienne liked her water hotter than the Seven Hells.

A slight curl touched the ends of Brienne’s hair and framed her face. Jaime’s eyes followed her neckline down to her long, lean form. He sucked in a sharp breath at her pebbled nipples and subtle curves at the hip. Swallowing thickly, Jaime looked away and tried to still his cock.

Jaime prayed to the gods his voice didn’t crack as he spoke. “Brienne? Are you bathing?”

“Just finishing. I’ll be right there.”

Turning his back to the room, Jaime adjusted his cock which threatened to tent his breeches. He summoned every awful thought possible while pushing away the vision of Brienne in the next room.

Moments later, footsteps at Jaime’s back signaled Brienne’s approach. “You’re here early. I thought you had paperwork to tend to.”

Jaime turned to meet Brienne’s curious gaze. She had thrown on a well-fitted tunic and breeches. After her arrival in the West, Genna had a seamstress fit Brienne with outfits that would afford a more feminine look, while retaining the functionality that Brienne sought for her training.

“Yes, well something important arrived. A bit of a late wedding gift.”

Extending the missive to Brienne, Jaime watched as she read it; her eyes widening as she digested the information. Without awaiting her to finish, Jaime answered what was certain to be her first question. “I’ve called the full strength of the West. It should take a week for the army to get here, but we’ll ride north and remove House Bolton.”

A wide smile stretched across Brienne’s face. Unexpectedly, she lunged at Jaime and wrapped him in a firm embrace. “Thank you.”

Jaime’s eyes closed as his arms wrapped around Brienne’s waist. His arms tugged her impossibly closer. The sensation of Brienne’s body, warm from the bath and mirth, had an overwhelming effect on Jaime. Everything about her proximity was dizzying and Jaime felt he might fall over were Brienne not there to hold him up.

They had spent moons huddled close in the same bed. They had spent just as many moons sharing a House name. Jaime had spent evenings with Brienne’s hand pressed firm over his face, and his own at her hip. Despite those things, they had never hugged. Jaime realized in the moment had desperately he wanted Brienne’s touch as much as he wished to kiss her.

Abruptly, Brienne broke the embrace and stepped back. Jaime’s body swayed forward in chase, but he willed his hands to stay at his side and respect her desired distance. “Apologies. I did not mean to respond so boldly, Ser Jaime. I… appreciate this very much.”

“It is our _shared_ oath if you recall, but as to the hug, I do not think an embrace between husband and wife is considered bold.” _At least I hope not._

Brienne’s face flushed at the words and she moved quickly towards the stand containing her brush. Jaime watched as she brushed away the curls that he had enjoyed only moments earlier.

“No, of course not. I just… I understand what our marriage is, Ser Jaime. I did not mean to overstep boundaries.”

Jaime’s feet carried him forward without his consideration. “What is our marriage to you? Do you wish it to end when we rescue Lady Sansa?”

There was now a timeline on Sansa’s rescue, which meant there was a timeline on Jaime’s time with Brienne. He understood that Brienne wished to honor the memory of Lady Catelyn by offering her sword to Sansa. Unfortunately, the lord of Casterly Rock and Warden of the West could not spend his days trailing after the sworn sword of girl in the north.

At Jaime’s questions, Brienne’s brows furrowed. Her eyes shifted towards Jaime, but she did not meet his own imploring gaze.

“I can have a maester confirm we have not consummated. You will be free to have the marriage annulled. Free to find someone worthy to love and have a family with.”

Jaime had not realized how far he had walked until he was standing at Brienne’s back a mere whisper away. He could feel the heat between their bodies as he summoned the courage to share his desire for the marriage.

“It would be rather taxing to find someone whose fingers were long enough to press the length of my scar.”

Brienne turned at the words. She startled slightly at Jaime’s proximity, but replied with an edge of irritation. “You needn’t hide your scar. I’ve told you that it does nothing to diminish your worth or appearance.”

“I wasn’t talking about hiding it. I meant for the purpose of sleeping. It seems that I sleep better when your hand is on my face.” Jaime aimed for lightness, but he could hear the desperate edge in his voice.

Brienne’s face fell at the words. “You shouldn’t fret about finding someone to love you and care for you as you deserve to be.”

_Does that imply that she loves and cares for me, or that she believes someone can? Someone not her._

A knock at the door startled them both. Jaime backed away slowly and sucked in a sharp breath. Had the knock not come, he feared what his lips might have done to try and find the answer to his unspoken question.

Pulling open the door, Jaime sagged at the sight of an attendant standing rigid with a missive in hand. “M’lord, this came for you.”

Jaime noted the seal on the missive bearing the rose of House Tyrell. Nodding in thanks, Jaime shut the door and opened the letter which he assumed to be from his sister. Certain as the sea was deep, a note in Cersei’s handwriting greeted his eyes.

_Come at once, help me. The Queen of Thorns and father demand an heir from this cursed marriage. Loras and I are willing to make certain arrangements for a visit. Come to Highgarden. Come quickly. The staff at the Rock confirm what I’ve always known. You would never betray our love. You would never bed that cow in silks._

_I need you now as I have never needed you before. I love you. I love you I love you. Come at once._

Jaime’s face betrayed his rage as he crumpled the letter in his hands.

“Is everything alright?” Brienne’s voice called out quietly as she placed down the brush still in her hands.

Wordlessly, Jaime threw the missive into the fire and stalked towards her. Brienne’s eyes went wide at his approach, but she did not move from where she stood. The room fell from view as Jaime wrapped his left arm around Brienne’s waist and pulled her head down with his right hand.

Jaime’s lips crashed into Brienne’s. Her legs gave way in shock, but Jaime held her body firm to his. The kiss was needy and hard. As Brienne recovered from the unexpected behavior, her hands clutched at his arms. When their lips parted, her eyes were wide and questioning.

“I’ve already found the woman who I want to love and care for me. If you feel even half for me what I feel for you, I’d accept it happily.”

When Brienne’s eyes dropped, it felt as though the air left Jaime’s lungs and his heart was torn from his body. Jaime watched with sorrow as her lips parted but struggled to form words. He prepared for the rejection to come. Jaime’s arms held her firm as though he could somehow transfer his feelings to her.

Slowly, Brienne’s eyes lifted. “And if I feel the same or… more… for you? You’d want that?” 

Jaime’s lips were back on Brienne’s. It was the only reply he could offer at the reversal in emotions from anguish to elation. This time, Jaime’s kiss was returned. He had never felt anything so warm, soft, and welcoming as Brienne’s thick lips.

Stumbling backwards, Jaime guided Brienne onto the bed and towards the pillows. Frantic hands pushed away clothing. The sound of shallow breathing and lips meeting skin filled the room. When they were both naked a their nameday, Jaime paused to take in the sight of her body.

Brienne was long and lean. Subtle curves greeted Jaime’s eyes where male garb typically masked her body. The porcelain expanse of skin below Jaime called out to him. He would not be satisfied until his mouth had touched every part of her.

At Jaime’s wandering eyes, a cloud of uncertainty moved over Brienne’s face. Her hands quickly covered her most intimate parts, but Jaime batted them away. There was a forming thought on Brienne’s tongue, but the look in her eyes told Jaime that the words were not worthy. His mouth met hers and swallowed any self-deprecating protest she might offer. Jaime pushed his hard cock against her core to demonstrate how agreeable her body was to him.

Jaime’s fingers danced down the side of Brienne’s body as he rocked against her nub. The sensation of skin on skin drew gasps from their lips. It took every ounce of restraint in Jaime not to push into her folds. Knowing Brienne was a maiden, he wanted to ensure her comfort.

When his fingers found their way to Brienne’s hips, he dragged them across to where their bodies pressed together. Brienne was wet and tight as Jaime placed an exploratory finger inside her. His thumb pushed against her nub while his mouth swallowed her gasp.

Brienne began to respond to Jaime’s touch; her back arching off the bed. Unable to wait any longer, Jaime withdrew his fingers and positioned himself at her entrance. Jaime cupped Brienne’s face with his left hand to keep her from turning away. He wanted to look deep into her eyes the moment he entered her.

Pushing in slowly so as not to hurt her, Jaime watched as Brienne’s chin trembled slightly. His thumb caressed her face and he waited for her body to relax and take in the length of him. When the tension left her muscles, Jaime began thrusting slowly; his eyes never leaving Brienne’s.

He had never had that moment with Cersei. Any form of intimate touch and eye contact was banished from their frenzied fucks. As in all things, Cersei demanded and Jaime obeyed. Cersei took and Jaime gave. Jaime was happy to share this more intimate connection with Brienne. It would be forever theirs; something that Cersei would never claim.

Brienne’s walls were tight around Jaime’s cock. He moaned at the sensation. Every movement sent a rush of pleasure through Jaime’s body. When Brienne’s body began to respond without any lingering discomfort, Jaime began to thrust harder. As if reaching for support, Brienne gripped the pillow that her head rested on. Jaime reached up for Brienne’s hand with his right, lacing their fingers together.

The touch had a surprising reaction in Brienne. Her eyes misted and she smiled at him. It wasn’t the tight, forced smile afforded to most who met her acquaintance, but rather a smile that was genuine, warm, and loving. It made Jaime’s chest clench as he pushed deeper, hitting an unseen point that made Brienne moan and her chin tilt up.

When her walls began to tighten and her body stiffened in pleasure, Jaime felt his own release arrive with a force stronger than anything experienced before. Jaime spilled deep into Brienne. Her name on his lips echoed off the walls of the room. 

They lay joined, panting and wordless for some time. Jaime couldn’t stop staring into Brienne’s eyes. The depths of her sapphire pools had never been so clear, and it felt as though Jaime could see straight to her heart. Something about being with Brienne felt beyond themselves. It felt to Jaime that they were destined for only each other.

_Perhaps I was meant to follow false love into an unweddable position to keep me available for Brienne when our time came. Cersei was never my other half. She was my perverse distraction and my father’s obstruction from arranging a marriage for me. I was only meant for Brienne._

Jaime and Brienne held one another close until they had to make their way downstairs for supper. In truth, Jaime had little desire for nourishment of the edible variety. Were it not for the need to speak with Addam, Jaime would not have bothered extricating himself from the warmth of his bed with Brienne.

They dressed and made their way downstairs. Jaime ensured Brienne’s comfort by getting her situated in a chair and placing a kiss to her lips. “I’ll be right back.”

Both Genna and Tyrion nearly fell from their chairs at the unexpected affection, but Bronn’s mumbled reply was as expected. “Bout time ya fucked her.”

A warning glare from Jaime ended additional commentary from the crass sellsword. Jaime left the dining hall to get word to Addam. He found an attendant and requested he summon Addam to the Keep for supper. On the way back towards the hall, Jaime spotted Jaleyn.

Jaleyn was one of Cersei’s creatures. The girl had served at the Red Keep for years, but she was sent to the Rock after Cersei was wed off to Loras and sent to Highgarden. The girl’s eyes went wide as Jaime stalked towards her.

“Jaleyn, perfect. I imagine my sweet sister will be expecting a reply soon. I fear that I have none which will appease her, but if you could run along and change the sheets on my bed. My wife and I would prefer clean linens when we retire this evening. We plan to retire _quite_ early, so don’t delay.”

A week later, Jaime stood in the courtyard preparing to ride out. The army was amassed outside Lannisport, and they readied to move north. Bronn, Pod, Addam, and Tyrion mounted their horses as Jaime moved quickly to Brienne’s side.

His nose nuzzled into her neck and breathed in her scent. With a hand on her hip, Jaime whispered teasingly into her ear. “I hope the ride isn’t too uncomfortable.”

Over the past week, Jaime and Brienne made love more times than he could count. She had grumbled that morning about the long ride to come after the siege between her legs. With a playful elbow to his side, Brienne bit her lip. Her eyes aimed at reprimand, but he could see the amusement shining through.

“Don’t worry, wife, I’ll kiss it better when we make camp tonight.”

Jaime helped Brienne into her saddle; his hand lingered at her calf as he looked up at her fondly.

“What do you think you’re doing!?” Genna stomped into the courtyard in a flurry of skirts. Her lips were drawn into scowl and her cheeks pinked with rage.

Glancing back at his group in the courtyard, Jaime sighed before turning back to face his aunt. “I’m going on a ride.”

“A ride!? With the entire Westerlands army at your back!?”

“One can never be too safe.”

The older woman’s eyes narrowed, and she grumbled in protest. A forceful finger poked into Jaime’s chest. “When your father hears about this, heads will roll.”

Jaime’s jaw clenched at the mention of Tywin. Standing to full height and banishing any mirth from his eyes and tone, Jaime used his own lessons from Tywin against his aunt. “What concern is it to the Hand of the king if I should go for a ride with _my_ army? I am the lord of Casterly Rock and Warden of the West. Matters of my kingdom do not concern the Lord Hand when I act in protection of the crown and our allies.”

Genna’s eyes went wide at the words. Her words were but a whisper on her lips as she looked to him in question. “Allies?”

“Is Lady Sansa Lannister of Winterfell _not_ an ally to our House and the crown?”

Genna’s eyes darted over Jaime’s shoulder to the group at his back. “You father will not appreciate this.”

“And I do not appreciate his involvement in the violation of guest right. House Bolton is _not_ an ally. Your husband’s vile House is _not_ an ally.”

Jaime stepped towards his horse and mounted. He could hear Genna grumbling at his back as her feet moved quickly to follow. With a heavy sigh, Jaime glanced down at her.

“I’ll deal with my father regarding my decision for my army. While I’m gone, I need you to deal with Jaleyn. She has been sending Cersei information of the Rock. I trust you can find some suitable use for her.”

Jaime raised a brow and watched as Genna’s eyes darkened. Like Tyrion, Genna had a distaste for Cersei, and she _hated_ being duped. With a stiff nod, Genna reached up and grabbed Jaime’s arm. “Be careful. Write me when you’re done with your _ride_.”

**Brienne**

For the second time in matter of heartbeats, Brienne vomited onto the snowy field at her feet. Jaime chuckled and rubbed the nape of her neck. “First battles can be a bit… overwhelming.”

Dead bodies stretched out as far as the eye could see. Most of the dead were Bolton soldiers. Some were Stannis’ sellswords. Even less were men from the West. It had bene a chaotic mix of armies crashing together at Winterfell.

Adrenaline had coursed through Brienne’s body and overcome the fatigue and sickness she endured for the past week on the road north. Rolling her eyes, Brienne righted herself and dragged the back of her hand across her mouth.

“Do you forget our time in the Riverlands so soon? I do recall using a sword before today.”

Jaime chuckled at Brienne’s exasperated tone. His fingers brushed her cheeks which had pinked on account of the cold. Without the winter chill, they were likely to be paler than usual on account of her unexplained illness.

“I said we should have the maester tend you on the road. This is not some poorly cooked meat or northern chill.” Jaime sighed and appraised the space around them. “Lets go inside. He can tend to you there. Do try not to vomit on your goodsister. It would make for a poor first impression.”

The smirk on Jaime’s face made Brienne temporarily forget the lurching of her stomach. If nothing else, she could savor the memory of her blade dragging across Stannis’ throat. She had dealt with the man in the thick of battle; memories of Renly falling into her arms dancing in her mind.

She avenged a friend. A man she respected, though never experienced an ounce of the love and devotion she felt for Jaime. Had Jaime been killed by Stannis’ blade, Brienne would have done far worse. She shuddered to think at the tortures she would have inflicted upon the man if he had harmed her love.

Making their way inside, Brienne noticed the group of prisoners being herded towards the dungeons. When the outcome of the battle was a foregone conclusion, sellswords and northerners alike began laying down their steel. Before that, Jaime had noticed two figures leap from the battlements into a mound of snow piled against the exterior edge of the Wall.

Through the war cries and sound steel meeting steel, Addam had gone to investigate. Only moments earlier the redheaded knight reported back that they had Theon Greyjoy and Sansa Stark safely secured at the castle. The girl had been frightened and desperate to get away, but when Addam implored her to breathe and trust they meant her no harm, that Tyrion was with them, she stilled.

Entering the castle, Brienne noticed the young woman on her knees sobbing in Tyrion’s arms. The younger Lannister was soothing her while ordering the men to procure a blanket and something warm for Sansa to drink.

At Brienne and Jaime’s approach, Tyrion smiled and patted Sansa’s arm. “Lady Sansa, I have someone you should meet.”

Sansa’s eyes dragged up the length of Brienne’s body. Smiling at the girl, Brienne crouched down and nodded. “My name is Brienne. I was your mother’s sworn sword. I swore a vow to her that I would return you home. Regrettably, you beat me here. We’ll keep you safe now.”

Sansa’s eyes were red from tears. She appeared lost and broken despite being home. The sight of her physical and emotional state saddened Brienne; her heart broke for the girl before her.

“Where you with her at the Twins?”

With a heavy sigh, Brienne shook her head. “I’m sorry, no. She had given me orders to exchange Ser Jaime for you and your sister. We were somewhere in the Riverlands or Crownlands when it happened. I wish I could have been there to protect her.”

Sansa nodded stiffly, her eyes moving to Jaime. The scowl on her face made Brienne grimace, and she feared how her formal title would be received by the young woman. “Lady Sansa, we were only here today to save you because of Ser Jaime. He kept the oath to your mother. He brought the entirety of the West to ensure your safety.”

Jaime feigned indifference and shrugged. “My wife made me. I was content to stay abed.”

Brienne swatted angrily at his leg. Her glare was a warning, but she struggled to maintain her displeasure at the smirk on his face. Jaime had a strange way of simultaneously enraging Brienne and making her laugh. It was entirely unhelpful in moments such as this.

With a sigh, Jaime forced a smile and nodded at Sansa. “Of course, I was happy to uphold my vow to your mother. I… regret… what my House did to yours. It was reprehensible.”

The offering temporarily appeased Sansa who only nodded and glanced back at Brienne. “You’re married to _him_?”

Brienne’s tone was teasing as she bit back a smile. “Regrettably. Someone had to.”

“You wound me, though I daresay my wounds are not so grave as those you inflicted upon half of House Bolton and Stannis.” Jaime’s eyes sparkled as he took in the sight of Roose Bolton and his bastard being escorted into the courtyard with the rest of their House’s surrendered bannermen.

At the sight of them, Sansa stiffened and paled. The Lannister brothers and Brienne followed her unsettled gaze to the Boltons. For the first time since entering the courtyard, any mirth was removed from Jaime’s face and tone. He crouched before Sansa and spoke inquisitively.

“Did they harm you?”

Sansa’s jaw trembled and her icy gaze broke away from the Boltons. “Yes.”

Brienne could feel the rage radiating off Jaime. He was a man with no tolerance for violence against a woman. The storm that followed was not one that Brienne wished to reflect on. When Roose and Ramsay met the Stranger, they did so in pieces.

Their demise was one of two things to steady Sansa’s frantic eyes and broken spirit; the other was Tyrion. In the week that followed, the pair spoke in hushed tones and gentle touch. It was evident to Brienne that while they had no romantic past, they had a connection forged from shared trauma at the hands of Cersei and Joffrey.

It was the first week after arriving North that Jaime spoke plainly to Sansa and Tyrion. “The best way to ensure your safety is through support of the West. Your armies are decimated, and living in open rebellion against the crown will do little to ensure your continued safety here. If you pretend at a marriage, just for a time, it will keep the crown appeased. By that… I mean my father. He’ll think that he maintains control of the North through your marriage to Tyrion.”

The mirrored expression on the faces of Sansa and Tyrion suggested that they had already discussed as much. Tyrion cleared his throat and smiled at Sansa before addressing Jaime. “Winterfell has quite a nice library. I think it should take me some time to read through everything. Perhaps another visit to the Wall to piss off it.”

Sansa snorted at the words, but a fond smile spread across her face. “And I think I’ll be quite busy making some clothes for the babe. Perhaps a direwolf above the heart.”

Jaime grimaced at Brienne’s side. “Perhaps a direwolf on the back of nappies.”

A piece of bread flew at his head before he turned away. The sight of Sansa smiling was a welcome sight, and Brienne was glad to have restored that for her if nothing else. Her mind wandered as the Lannister brothers and Sansa laughed together.

_The babe. Gods, I can’t believe we’re to have a babe._

Brienne’s mind went back to the hours following the battle only a week ago.

_One week prior_

As suggested, Brienne saw the maester after they guided Sansa inside the castle. Jaime’s encampment had their own, but the man and additional healers the West brought were treating the injured. Instead, Sansa offered the maester at Winterfell. The man had served House Bolton, but he seemed kind. As it were, Roose’s wife was expecting a babe of her own. She seemed a timid woman and Brienne lamented that she would raise the babe without a father.

It was one of the tragedies of war. Wives and children lost fathers, but for Roose’s crimes, Brienne could not find it within her to feel sorrow at the end that Roose met. As Brienne sat on the exam table in the maester’s office, he asked her all manner of questions about her ailments. It was the last question the man asked which took her breath away.

“And when did you last bleed, my lady?”

_When did I last bleed? Gods. I don’t know._

The life of a soldier was not one counted by moonbloods. When Brienne joined Renly’s camp, she would not have considered her moonblood at all were it not for the stained sheets on her bedroll every moon turn.

“I’m not certain. I did not bleed on the journey here from Casterly Rock. The army was a bit slow moving, and it took us six weeks. Before that… I… I was a maid until the week before that. I can’t say before that. Perhaps a fortnight before?”

The maester’s returning smile was compassionate as he placed a gentle hand on her arm. “If you wouldn’t mind, my lady, I would examine you. It should only take a moment, but I suspect you are with child.”

True to his word, the maester’s exam was quick, though slightly awkward. When Brienne sat upright on the table, he nodded slowly. “The sickness should retreat in another moon turn or so. There are certain herbs you can take to lessen the nausea. As to the fatigue and dizziness, that too should clear in so many weeks. I would estimate you are two moons with child.”

Brienne felt her jaw slacken as she took in the words. _A babe. We’re to have a babe. Does Jaime even wish for that?_

“Thank you, Maester Wolkan.”

Sliding off the exam table, Brienne walked numbly through the long corridors of Winterfell. Her nerves were frayed as she pondered Jaime’s reaction. When she came upon him, Jaime was giving orders to his most senior officers. Bodies needed to be removed from the fields, and restorations to the castle needed to begin. Winterfell had sustained nominal damage during the siege.

When the west arrived, Stannis’ army was already attacking. The snowstorm had slowed their contingent as much as it had slowed the West. Stannis’ troops were weary and scattered, but they put forth _some_ effort. The West had waited for the storm to pass and spent days recovering before forging ahead. Had they been hasty, they would have endured two battles spaced only days apart.

As Jaime pointed towards one of the walls in need of restoration, his eyes landed on Brienne. Without a word, he stepped away from his officers to greet her. “Everything alright? I do hope you vomited on anything paying tribute to Ned Stark.”

Brienne huffed a laugh; her breath extending out before her in the chilly northern air. Her amusement quickly faded as she glanced to Jaime. “I… I am well. Perhaps we can speak inside?”

Jaime’s brows furrowed, but he nodded and turned back towards his men. “I’ll find you later. For now, give the men the orders.”

Jaime and Brienne moved inside and towards an unoccupied room on the right. Brienne fidgeted nervously as she considered the diagnosis. “I know you were not close to Cersei’s children, but I wonder, if she had allowed it, would you have wanted that?”

Jaime’s brows furrowed slightly. “Wanted to be a father or wanted to be a father to _them_?”

The words were odd. It did not strike Brienne that the distinction would matter. “To be a father, I suppose.”

Understanding washed over Jaime’s features. His eyes lowered slowly to Brienne’s flat stomach and his fingers twitched as though seeking something. “I had not wanted to be _before_.”

“And _now_?”

Brienne watched as Jaime’s eyes bored a hole into her stomach. A smile slowly tugged at his lips. “I should like a little knight or ten. A girl to knock all the boys into the dirt and vex my father.”

Jaime’s hand reached out slowly and traced a small line over Brienne’s stomach. He took a sharp breath as he continued. “I had hoped this siege would be more effective than my last attempt.”

Brienne huffed and swatted his arm, but she couldn’t hold her anger when he smiled so brightly at her. Before she could reply, Jaime’s lips were on hers. With one arm around her waist, and a hand at her stomach, Jaime smiled as their lips pressed close.

Now as Brienne sat in the hall beside Jaime and opposite from her goodsister and goodbrother, she smiled as they laughed and carried on. They would enjoy one another’s company for three more weeks before the missive arrived from King’s Landing.

_Jaime,_

_You will return to the capital at once with your wife and my army. We will have words when you arrive._

_Lord Tywin Lannister; Hand of King Tommen Baratheon_

“Always so eloquent, if not delusional. Perhaps he forgets that he afforded me the title of Lord of the Rock and Warden of the West. It seems that my army is where they should be.”

Jaime crumpled the missive and tossed it into the flames. As he returned to his chair, Brienne noted the scowl on his face as he sipped his wine.

“I wish I could be there to see the look on his face when Brienne arrives with a swell at her belly.” Tyrion smirked and twirled his cup of wine as he stared at the liquid. “I hope you select garish funeral stones for his eyes when the revelation sends him into the Stranger’s arms.”

Brienne bit her lip and glanced at Jaime through her lashes. She watched as his scowl transformed into a smirk. “I truly hope this is a girl. That would be great fun.”

At three moons, Brienne had no swell to speak of, though at the rate the army would move south, she would likely be five moons when they arrived. A few days later, the army set out from Winterfell. Jaime left behind a small contingent to help protect the holding until Sansa and Tyrion could rebuild the kingdom and establish a functioning army of their own. Much to Brienne’s happiness, Bronn stayed behind.

He was a fierce warrior, but a terribly crass man. His japes made Brienne blush brighter than the crimson of House Lannister’s banners. The man was eager to stay with Tyrion and visit the brothel at winter town.

The movement south was slower than Brienne anticipated on account of poor weather north of the Neck, but Brienne hardly cared. Jaime kept her warm between the furs at night, and she enjoyed the freedom of training without Tywin’s disapproving eyes.

Of Jaime’s senior most officers, Brienne struck up a friendship with Addam. The redheaded knight was a good friend and confidant to Jaime, but endlessly amusing where it concerned tales from his childhood with Jaime. Brienne was glad that Jaime at least had that during his formative years.

It was clear that his family lacked the warmth that Jaime craved. Aside from Genna and Tyrion, Jaime had little in way of regard for much of his kin. Of course, there were some he trusted; namely Ser Daven Lannister and Joy Hill. Beyond them, Jaime cared little for much of his House.

The closer they came to the city, the more Brienne’s belly swelled with child. When they arrived, Brienne was near five moons pregnant. On account of her stature, her belly did not distend as much as other women at the same stage of pregnancy, but it was obvious enough.

Brienne’s armor had been stored away around four moons. Her sparring sessions with Addam and Jaime had continued throughout the journey south, but Brienne felt her stance shifting. Her movements were more awkward as she tried to compensate for the shift in weight and form that would otherwise throw off her balance. Still, she bested Addam each time. Jaime however was a swordsman who Brienne resigned to never beating, though she would happily try.

When they arrived at the Red Keep, Tywin did not greet them in the courtyard. Jaime was hardly surprised and assured Brienne that it was not his way. “He makes everyone go to him. The man waits for no one.”

As they walked the halls, Brienne noted the change in atmosphere with Cersei at Highgarden. There was less tension among the staff, and more smiles from those at court. Arriving at Tywin’s study, Jaime knocked and raised a knowing brow.

“I’ll wager you a dragon he stops all protest at the sight of you.”

Brienne hummed at the words, but it was a bet she would not take. From what little she had come to learn of Tywin Lannister, Jaime had the right of it. A storm would come for them, and then quickly veer out to sea rather than make landfall.

When the door opened at Tywin’s curt bid to enter, Jaime smirked slightly as he shut the door and they strode into the room. The walk towards Tywin’s desk was short, but it felt never-ending. The head of House Lannister was already red in the face with rage as he sprang from his chair. His lips curled into a snarl and he roared as though transforming into his House’s sigil.

“By what right do you think it acceptable to steal away with my army! To move north and remove our allies; the crown’s allies! How could you…”

As Brienne came to stand shoulder to shoulder with her husband, Tywin’s eyes fell to the swell at her belly. Both Jaime and Brienne stood in silence waiting; waiting and watching as Tywin’s reddened face lost its color. Waiting and watching as the Lannister patriarch stepped back in disbelief; his jaw going slack as his brows furrowed.

At his father’s silence, Jaime spoke commandingly.

“We received reports that the false king, Stannis Baratheon, moved against the crown from the far north. He intended to descend first upon Winterfell and claim the North before continuing south with an army of sellswords and rebel Stormlanders. Conveniently, we were already poised to head north after word that Littlefinger intended to sell my goodsister, _your_ gooddaughter, to Roose’s bastard, Ramsay. They intended to use Sansa to earn the loyalty of the north, and then move against the crown. Both threats have been dealt with accordingly, and now Lord and Lady Lannister occupy Winterfell in the name of King Tommen Baratheon first of his name.”

At Jaime’s report, Tywin’s mouth remained ajar; his eyes trailing slowly from the swell at Brienne’s belly to Jaime’s face. A wide smile spread across Jaime’s face. With his hands clasped formally behind his back, Jaime rocked onto his toes and chirped. “Oh… and in four moons we’re to have the heir to Casterly Rock.”


	8. I’ll Fight For Our Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The growing pride visit King's Landing for Tommen's nameday. Tyrion sends word from the North, and Tywin is not pleased about it.

**Jaime**

Jaime sat beside Tommen and hoisted Galladon into the air, making faces at his son. The babe giggled in delight; his chubby hands reaching out for his father’s face. At only eight moons, little Gal had stolen the hearts of everyone at the Red Keep, even the Queen of Thorns herself. Jaime brought the young boy back onto his lap, but Gal was soon stolen by Tommen who was eager to hold his _cousin_.

At Tommen’s side, Margaery purred in his ear and ran a hand over Galladon’s blonde curls. The young boy was all Lannister with the only Tarth feature being his bright blue eyes. Genna had stated that it was like looking into the past at a young Jaime, with the exception being the eyes.

Only a week prior Jaime and Brienne had arrived in King’s Landing to celebrate King Tommen’s nameday. Across the room, Tywin carried around Arthur on his hip and showed off the heir to Casterly Rock. The twins had been born at the Rock with Arthur making his presence known first; a loud roar echoing off the walls as Brienne had writhed on the birthing bed.

By comparison, Galladon had not delivered as easily. He was smaller than his brother and his color poor. The maester and midwife surmised that Arthur had taken more in the womb. Based on the single afterbirth, it was clear that Galladon received less nutrients and would need closer monitoring to ensure he grew well. 

The information caused a slight panic in Jaime and Brienne, but fortunately, their fears were unfounded. Galladon ate just as well if not better than Arthur. He caught up in size quite quickly, and the maester deemed him in excellent health.

Jaime had proudly held his sons and shared how pleased he was that Galladon followed his own path. When the maester had looked at him strangely, Jaime explained. “I was born clutching at Cersei’s foot. I followed her into all the wrong places for far too long.” The maester had only snorted. “Ridiculous. That’s not eve physically possible. The midwife likely made it up to play up the moment to your father.”

Jaime had startled at the words and looked back at his twins. “Oh. Well… the point remains. Be your own men.”

Lord Tarth had been thrilled with the news. Tarth had an heir; a boy honoring Selwyn’s deceased son, Galladon. When Selwyn came to visit the babes, he wept when Brienne revealed the name. Jaime was not accustomed to such displays of emotion from his kin, but the sight of Selwyn’s joy warmed his heart.

Jaime had thought back to the day before his wedding to Brienne when Selwyn spoke with him in private. The older lord had not forgotten Jaime’s kindness towards Brienne on Tarth when she was treated as a jape. He wanted the truth of the rumors swirling around the lineage of Robert’s children, and Jaime told him the truth of it.

The older lord was displeased, but he appreciated Jaime’s honesty. It was Jaime’s disclosed secret regarding his twisted relationship with Cersei that enabled Selwyn to believe his answer to the next question.

_‘And do you love her still? Your sister that is.’_

_‘No, Lord Tarth. I know it now for what it was, and I would never repeat the mistake. My heart belongs to Brienne and Brienne alone.’_

Now as Jaime watched the king and queen play with his youngest son, the door to the room opened and an attendant bowed. “Your Grace. My Lord Hand. House Tyrell has arrived in the courtyard. Shall we bring them here to meet with you.”

Dutiful as ever, Tommen’s eyes strayed to Tywin who nodded almost imperceptibly. No sooner than the attendant left, did Brienne enter the room. She had been feeling unwell since they left the Rock, and Jaime suggested she see a maester when they arrive. Even still, Jaime did not trust Pycelle near his wife. He summoned someone from the city to examine Brienne at the Keep; the act vexing Tywin.

Brienne entered the room looking stiff in her dress. For the occasion, Tywin had demanded Brienne play the part of Lady of the Rock. With Lady Olenna and Queen Margaery’s aid, Brienne had been fitted with a stunning gown that matched the color of her eyes. In a nod to Tarth, a sun and moon hung over a roaring lion which was stitched in silver.

The dress clung to Brienne in all the right places, and the bottom only flared slightly to enable her comfort in walking. Judging by the lack of padding at the bodice, Jaime had already surmised what ailed her. Biting back a smile, Jaime draped his arm around Brienne’s shoulders when she sat next to him.

With a delicate kiss to her temple, Jaime whispered into her ear. “Please tell me we’ve another knight in there.”

Brienne’s cheeks flushed at the words, but there was a sparkle in her eyes. An incredible joy spread through Jaime as his hand reached for her lean belly. Initially, Tywin had been displeased at Brienne’s delayed arrival to the room, but when Jaime insinuated what delayed her, Tywin relented. Glancing across the room, Jaime noted the appraising stare on his father’s face. When he noticed Jaime’s hand at Brienne’s belly, a knowing smile tugged at his lips.

Turning back to the ten dignitaries assembled from the West, Tywin continued speaking of his growing pride. There had been a subtle softening to Tywin’s constant demands and expectations. Still, Jaime had no fondness for Tywin other than familial obligation.

As to other familial obligation, Jaime had no desire to see his sister. Her letter sent over a year ago to the Rock was the last of its variety. Now, he would see Cersei for the first time in nearly two years. It amused Jaime that his sister had actually found a way to bed Loras, or that she simply found someone _worthy_ enough to provide seed.

Jaime reached out for Brienne’s hand and pulled her knuckles to his lips. The days to come would be miserable, but Jaime had Brienne at his side and that was all that mattered. When House Tyrell arrived, they brought with them a storm.

False pleasantries and forced smiles greeted them when Cersei made her rounds. Something about the way her fingers twirled through Galladon’s hair unsettled Jaime. Cersei was a poison, and Jaime wouldn’t let her harm his family. When the boys grew tired, Jaime eagerly offered to bring them to the nursery.

Despite having staff to help with the babes, Jaime and Brienne insisted in involving themselves as much as possible. Unlike his own father, Jaime wanted to know his sons. He wanted to watch them grow, teach them, play with them, and afford them something Tywin never gave. Love.

The boys were soon settled in their cribs. Upon arrival, Jaime and Brienne had insisted on a room that had an adjoining nursery. They would not be separated from their little lions any sooner than Cersei would be separated from wine.

“You actually did it.” Cersei’s voice startled Jaime as he spun around and watched her shut the door at her back.

She moved towards him; her hips swaying from side to side on approach. With every pregnancy, Cersei’s body seemed to glow, and her womanly curves grew more pronounced. In years past, Jaime’s cock would have twitched at the sight, but now all he felt was unease.

Cersei’s eyes darted to the sleeping babes at Jaime’s back. A curious smile tugged at her lips. “You bedded that cow. I didn’t think you had it in you.”

“Don’t call her that.” Jaime growled in low tones and stood protectively before the cribs.

As Cersei approached, her hands came to Jaime’s chest. With her fingers gliding over his doublet, Cersei hummed and dropped her gaze. A small smile formed at her lips; her hands dragging down towards Jaime’s breeches.

Shoving her arms away, Jaime took a predatory step forward. “Stay away from my family. If you so much as look at them the wrong way, I’ll…”

“You’ll what? Harm your own twin? Your other half?”

Jaime growled at the words; his eyes blazing like wildfire. “You are not my other half. I am whole without you, and Brienne complements me in ways you could never.”

Cersei raised a challenging brow and snorted. “Please. I admire your dedication brother, but we all have eyes, do we not?” Walking towards the cribs, Cersei peered down at Arthur.

A chill ran down Jaime’s spine at the sight of Cersei near his sons. He wanted nothing more than to protect them from the monster that was their aunt. Turning on heel with an unimpressed expression on her face, Cersei appraised Jaime. Her hand moved to the swell at her belly.

“This could have been yours. Instead, you abandoned me. You promised to protect me always, but you failed me.”

Jaime’s eyes narrowed as Cersei moved towards him once more. “I cloaked the woman who I am meant to protect. If you need aid, I recommend you look to your lord husband.”

Cersei hummed; her shoulders shrugging as though it mattered little. “I wonder… who carried the babes? How does it work when you both have cocks?”

Cersei’s hand reached out and grabbed Jaime’s cock. He startled and tried to push her hand away, but she squeezed tightly. Taking a step closer, Cersei pressed close and began to stroke Jaime while keeping a firm grip. Jaime had half a mind to push her away, but he also wondered at her reaction when his body didn’t respond to her touch.

Grabbing Cersei’s wrist, Jaime squeezed tightly to loosen her hold. “Touch me again, and I’ll remove your hand with the sword at my hip. You can no sooner stir a reaction in me than give away your nonexistent heart.”

Cersei’s eyes went wide as Jaime leaned in and whispered into her ear. “When I’m inside Brienne, it feels better than anything I’ve ever known. I pour my seed into her without any attempt to spill onto sheets as I did with you. I may have fucked you, but I make love to her. Brienne is far more beautiful than you could ever be.”

Cersei’s eyes went wide at the words. With his hand still wrapped around her wrist, Jaime dragged Cersei towards the door.

“Let go! You’re hurting me!”

Opening the door, Jaime pushed Cersei into the hallway and closed the door behind them. His face filled with rage as he snarled at his twin. “As I said, stay away from my family!”

Jaime felt a presence to his right side. Turning his head, he met Brienne’s wide eyes. “Is everything already?”

Jaime’s face softened as Brienne closed the distance between them. He didn’t need to glance at Cersei to know she was enraged. The anger radiated off her and charged the space around them. Jaime reached out and pulled Brienne close. Placing a deep kiss to her lips, Jaime smiled; his thumb caressing her cheek as he cupped her face.

“Wife. I’ve missed you. The boys are asleep, thank the gods. This creature paid them a visit and the sight of her would have riddled their sleep with nightmares for years to come.”

Cersei huffed at the words but turned on heel and stormed away. At her retreat, Jaime smiled victoriously. “I should like to celebrate our news in private.” His eyes lowered to Brienne’s belly and his hand caressed her non-existent swell.

Brienne smiled, but Jaime could see that something troubled her. “Are you certain you’re alright?”

“I don’t want my sister near them. She seems… off. More unstable than usual.” Jaime’s eyes darted down the hallway in the direction that Cersei retreated.

Brienne hummed at his side; her brows furrowed in contemplation. “Do you think the babe is truly Loras’?”

With a snort, Jaime’s eyes moved slowly to Brienne. “About as much as I would believe the babe in your womb to be another man’s.”

At the reminder of the new life growing safely within, Jaime’s arms wrapped around Brienne and he tugged her towards their room. “I do hope it’s a girl. My father is far too pleased for my taste. Speaking of taste, I’d like a snack before supper.”

**Bran**

Unlike the first time he underestimated Cersei, Bran would not do so again. He followed her movements since her wedding to Loras Tyrell. The pair were promptly sent to Highgarden where they put forth every effort to ignore one another. It took a few moons before the missives began to arrive asking after an heir. It took less time for Olenna Tyrell to berate them for their lack of beddings.

Loras had a lover at Highgarden, Ser Peyton. The young knights were always together and constantly finding hidden locations to express their love. They discussed Loras’ issue regarding the required heir he was to plant in Cersei’s womb. Together, they considered granting Cersei the same allowances that they sought.

Loras approached Cersei to suggest she take a lover. It would stay between them, but Loras would bring in her chosen man as a household guard or attendant; if not a regular visitor. Cersei scoffed at the idea of some unworthy man planting his seed in her. She was a _Lannister_ , and as such, her line should remain pure.

So, Cersei sent a raven to Jaime. What she received back was a note from Jaleyn.

_My lady,_

_I regret that the sheets have needed tending of late. Your brother bedded the girl._

_J_

Cersei raged and cursed. For moons, Cersei convinced herself that Jaime only pretended at care for the cow. She convinced herself that Jaime still loved her and only her; that he was merely lashing out at Cersei’s betrayal. Then she had an idea.

Her cousin, seven-and-ten Tyrek Lannister, had gone into hiding when it was demanded time for him to return home to his child-bride, Ermesande Hayford. Ermesande was a girl of five, and in no position to wed anyone, but the wedding had come to pass. The House needed a young lord to lead after the child’s father passed of the chill. Cersei had helped Tyrek go into hiding, and she wrote him a missive with her plan.

Cersei summoned her cousin and promised him lordship. When Tyrek arrived, Cersei was pleased. He was a man grown now and striking as any Lannister. In the dark, he could even pass for a young Jaime. Cersei spoke in whispers of her plan to have Loras arrested by the Faith Militant. Her father had been dealing with the High Sparrow in King’s Landing, and he had lacked the West’s army to overrun the threat. Knowing Loras would bring his fool lover on their next journey to the city, Cersei would have the men intruded on at the inn they always frequented when in the capital.

When Loras was charged for his crime and executed, the babe that Tyrek planted in Cersei’s womb would be heir to Highgarden. Together, they would rule the Reach. Together they would remove Tywin and the rest of House Tyrell. Cersei would name herself Hand of the king, and she would take Tyrek as consort. Her own parents had been cousins, and it seemed entirely reasonable to Cersei that she could wed Tyrek. 

They would rule Westeros while maintaining control over the Reach. There was one other person who Cersei wanted dead. Brienne.

The night of House Tyrell’s arrival at the city for Tommen’s nameday, Tyrek sought out his cousin Lancel who was among the Faith Militant. He told his cousin of Loras’ location, and that he would be with his lover.

Bran watched in horror as Loras and his lover were taken by the High Sparrow’s men. That night after a large feast welcoming all the dignitaries, word arrived at the Red Keep of Loras’ charged crimes. Bran followed Cersei closely throughout her wanderings. Like Jaime, Bran feared that she might do something to the twins. He feared that she might have Brienne killed.

Olenna Tyrell was beside herself with worry at the news of Loras’ imprisonment. She and Tywin devised a plan to recover Loras, but they failed to see Cersei’s own scheming. With Tyrek’s aid, Cersei had the cups prepared for Tommen’s nameday feast. A powerful poison was placed on the rim of the cups for all at the king’s table except Cersei, Tommen, and Jaime.

Bran wondered at why Cersei meant to spare Jaime. _Does she mean to watch him suffer through the trauma of losing his wife?_

Then Bran realized her scheme. As House Tyrell and House Lannister entered the feast and took their seats at the head table, Cersei leaned towards Tommen and spoke loud enough for everyone’s ears; her eyes darting to the staff.

“Tommen, sweetling, I’ve very little trust in cupbearers since your brother’s wedding. Perhaps someone we trust can pour the wine. Your uncle Jaime perhaps. I trust him with our lives. He would do us no harm.”

With an apologetic smile, Tommen glanced at Jaime. Jaime grumbled and moved to stand, but Tywin’s hand stilled him. Looking at Cersei, he snarled. “The Lord of Casterly Rock is not a cupbearer. We have staff for such things.”

“Of course, father. It’s just that after…” Cersei paused and feigned sorrow. Sucking in sharp breath and wiping at her eyes, she continued slowly. “… after what happened to Joff… I never take wine from a cupbearer, or kin I don’t trust.”

Tommen’s face turned down in sorrow as he grabbed his mother’s hand. “It’s alright mother. I’ll do it.”

“No. You’re king, and your mother is speaking out of turn.” Tywin glared at Cersei before turning towards the staff. “The wine.”

Cersei scowled, but sat back and said little more on the matter. Considering it was the cups coated with poison and not the liquid, Bran knew that it mattered little. She would not be implicated, and even if Jaime wasn’t, her scheming would see him dead soon enough. First, Cersei would make him watch as his wife died.

The staff came around the long, rectangular table and began to fill the wine goblets for those assembled. When the staff came to Brienne, she placed her hand over the cup and spoke quietly. “No, thank you.”

As the cupbearer moved towards Jaime, Cersei began to protest. “Goodsister, it is rude not to accept wine for a toast. It is our king’s nameday.”

Brienne’s face flushed at the attention as all eyes turned to her. At her side, Jaime’s hand reached for her thigh to offer some comfort as he spoke more to Tommen than Cersei. “My wife does not wish to drink this evening. She can toast our king without wine.”

Of course, Tommen understood why Brienne did not wish to drink. Unlike Cersei who elected to imbibe while with child, Brienne was a more cautious sort. She instead enjoyed water or tea until the babes arrived.

Bran leaned down and whispered between Jaime and Brienne “The cups are poisoned. The cups are poisoned. The cups are poisoned.”

With one fell swoop of his hand, Jaime knocked the cups from before him, Brienne, and Tywin. As Tywin began to protest, Jaime leaned forward towards the righthand side of the table where House Tyrell was seated beside Margaery. “The cups! Don’t drink!”

“What is wrong with you!” Cersei scoffed and a loud commotion broke out in the hall as necks craned to see the head table. At Jaime’s side, Tywin was seething in anger, but Jaime leaned towards him.

“The cups have been tampered with. Cersei did something. Check Margaery’s cup or your own on the ground.”

Tywin summoned one of the staff members and bid him drink from Brienne’s cup. When the poor man turned on awful shade of purple that reminded Bran of Joffrey’s wedding, Tywin stood in a rage. “Someone means to poison our king and his family! No one touch the cups!”

Tywin glared at Cersei who sat back in her chair and feigned horror. Pycelle inspected the cups carefully and noted that most were tampered with. In the commotion, Bran observed the expression on Tommen’s face. His eyes were filled with hurt as he appraised his mother. Having witnessed Joffrey’s death, he likely recalled the scene. Bran wondered if he recalled the vehemence with which Cersei accused Tyrion.

Even though Cersei had not poisoned Joffrey that day, Bran wondered if Tommen was noting a pattern. She had only moments earlier asked Jaime to pour the wine. Bran sagged in relief at what could have been a tragic end for Brienne, even if she had water placed in her cup.

Cersei was proving more problematic than he had planned, and now Bran had to follow her more closely. In the week that followed, Loras was brought to the Sept to stand trial for his accused crime. Bran had watched Olenna attempt to treat with the High Sparrow, but Loras had been caught in the act. The Tyrell matriarch went so far as to discredit the accusation by citing Cersei’s pregnancy, but the High Sparrow sought justice in the eyes of the Seven.

The day of the trial, Bran knew what Cersei would do next. He had followed her wanderings throughout the Keep. There was only one person who knew of the wildfire, but Bran knew that Jaime could never get to it in time.

Fortunately, Jaime and Brienne did not plan to attend the trial. Tywin had offered to meet Olenna at the Sept, but he first wanted to ensure Cersei was locked safely in her room. After the incident at the nameday feast, Tywin had little trust in his daughter. Were it not for the babe in her belly which would ensure his control over Highgarden, Bran imagine that he would have sent her to the Silent Sisters.

House Tyrell made their way to the Sept for Loras’ trial. Everyone but Margaery was in attendance. The queen was also experiencing the first signs of pregnancy, and she struggled to ready in time. “I’m sorry, grandmother. I’ll meet you there. I just need a bit more time to settle my stomach.”

Olenna offered an understanding squeeze of Margaery’s arm. Her eyes darted to Tommen and she smiled. “I’ll see you both later. Take care of my granddaughter, your Grace.”

Tommen beamed at the Tyrell matriarch and nodded in agreement. As Olenna left the Keep, Bran paced frantically. He had no way of stopping it. The city tunnels were too expansive and winding. Jaime would not get there in time even if Bran tried to encourage him.

Bran had tried to visit Jaime in sleep, but he was unable to. While Bran had found a way to communicate clipped messages to Jaime and Brienne, he found himself unable to get inside anyone’s mind who was not simple or an animal.

Then Bran felt the Keep shake. Shouting from the city below startled the castle occupants who rushed towards balconies to observe what had happened. A plume of green smoke filled the air, and Bran chastised himself for not finding a way to stop it.

**Brienne**

Sitting in Tywin’s study, Brienne gripped Jaime’s hand tightly in support. He had been unhinged after the explosion at the Sept, and he immediately placed blame on Cersei.

“I know she did this!” Jaime jabbed his finger onto the desk in Tywin’s study.

With a heavy sigh, Tywin shook his head. “After Tyrion used it against Stannis, the substance’s presence was hardly a secret. Someone must have found it.”

“And conveniently killed all of House Tyrell except Margaery!? Who do you suppose would benefit from that!? Cersei is out of control. She tried to kill my wife and you! She killed her husband and nearly all his House. She’ll come for my boys next. I’ll not let her harm my family. You’re being willfully ignorant about this.”

Tywin’s jaw clenched and he eyes held a danger glint. “She will remain here and birth the babe. I’ll have Genna named Castellan at the Reach until the child comes of age.”

A bitter laugh bubbled in Jaime’s throat. “You think that keeping Cersei locked in a room will stop her madness. She is Aerys reborn!”

“Enough, Jaime! You will leave me to deal with your sister. I want you and Brienne back at the Rock in the next moon turn.”

Jaime shook his head and muttered. “It’s not good enough.”

“What would you have me do? She is with child and due in a few moons. That babe is the piece we need to maintain control of the Reach.” Tywin glared at Jaime. His tone was a challenge, but Jaime would not back down.

“Tommen is wed to the only surviving member of House Tyrell! We already _have_ the Reach. Put her in the black cells. She doesn’t require linens to birth a babe. If you keep her in some plush room at the Keep, she’ll find a way to interact with the staff and get what she wants.”

Before they could continue, a knock at the door interrupted. Brienne glanced over her shoulder and noticed an attendant enter the room with a missive in Hand.

“Apologies, Lord Hand. This missive arrived for you from the North.”

Tywin grumbled and called the attendant forward. As he took the letter, he shook his head. “I can only imagine what your troublesome brother wants. This is the third time in a moon turn he writes me, and the last two letters speak of dead things marching south. He drinks too much.”

Brienne glanced at Jaime; her eyes narrowed in worry. Understanding passed between them as Jaime leaned back and sighed. Tyrion had written of the dead just a fortnight before Brienne and Jaime left for King’s Landing. Within the same missive, Tyrion indicated an inability to attend Tommen’s nameday celebration as Sansa was near nine moons pregnant with their first babe; a babe they had _not_ informed Tywin about.

The thought had made Jaime and Brienne laugh. _“Leave it to my brother to one up me. I show up with a pregnant wife. He’ll show up with a brood of children at his heels.”_

Brienne’s thumb caressed Jaime’s hand as they waited for Tywin to finish reading his missive. A heavy silence fell over the room, and Brienne noted the older lord’s brows furrow at the missive. When his face began to pale, Tywin sank back in his chair.

Mumbling more to himself than Jaime and Brienne, Tywin glanced towards the window. The older lord pinched the bridge of his nose and looked back at the missive.

“Your brother claims to have received word from Daenerys Targaryen. The girl has arrived at Dragonstone and Varys is with her. The Spider seeks an alliance with the North, Riverlands, and the Vale to remove the crown.”

Jaime snorted at the words. “Good luck to him. You’ve lions to the north, west, and east. An alliance with Dorne through Myrcella, and control of the Reach through Margaery. The kingdoms are united against any threat that may come our way.”

Throwing the missive at Jaime, Tywin tilted his head. “She has three dragons and an army of Unsullied.”

Brienne sucked in a sharp breath at the mention of dragons. Her eyes darted to Jaime and she watched as he read the missive. His lips turned down and he placed the letter back on the desk.

Without awaiting Jaime’s thoughts, Tywin spoke. “Call the banners. I want every kingdom and every army here in the capital. We will show this Targaryen girl a united realm and send her back across the sea.”

Brienne sank at the words. She had little desire to remain in King’s Landing, but now they would prepare for war.

* * *

Two moons later, Brienne sat beside Jaime in the dragonpit. Together, they represented the West with Ser Addam at their backs. To Brienne’s right, her father sat tall and proud with his appointed commander of the Stormlands army, Ser Balon Swann.

Dorne had sent Prince Trystane to act as emissary with Myrcella at his side. The young couple sat with Trystane’s kin and military commander, Ser Manfrey Martell, at their back. With Cersei’s imprisonment and the destruction of Margaery’s House, Lord Tarly stood behind his queen and liege lady of Higharden. He would lead the Reach on her behalf.

The queen’s belly had begun to swell with child and her hand reached out for Tommen’s. The young King had his entire Kingsguard at his back. Jaime had worried at their ability to protect the young king. He felt there was a drastic decline in quality after Joffrey insulted Ser Barristan Selmy by casting him out. When Jaime left the Kingsguard, Tywin had Ser Gregor take the mantle of Lord Commander. Brienne despised the man and wished him dead more than anything.

_Perhaps we use him as a peace offering to the dragon queen. Food for her beasts._

The Riverlands, the Vale, and the North were slowly making their way into the dragonpit. Sansa and Tyrion walked with Jon at their back. While the Northern army was rebuilding, Jon had stepped into the role as commander. For reasons that Tyrion did not disclose, Jon was no longer a member of the Night’s Watch. He had left Castle Black and returned to Winterfell to help protect his kin. With him, Jon brought Bran and a group of Wildlings that he had saved from the far North.

A redheaded man followed close at Jon’s side. His eyes went wide when he glanced at Brienne. The way his eyes roamed the length of her made Brienne squirm in her seat and shift closer to Jaime. Representing the Riverlands was Ser Brynden Tully. The man had somehow escaped the Red Wedding and reclaimed his ancestral home; the act embarrassing House Frey tremendously.

Old Walder had raged at the act and demanded the crown’s aid. When Jaime refused to move the West against the Tully rebels, Tywin had fumed.

_‘Why would I help those dolts reclaim what they stole. You, House Bolton, and House Frey violated guest right. You destroyed your gooddaughter’s House. Do you truly think Walder and his dolt sons so valuable? Replace them with Emmon and Genna.’_

Tywin threatened to strip Jaime of his lands and title for defying his orders, but Jaime had only shrugged and asked if that meant he could set sail for Tarth with his family to avoid the madness to come. The argument proved unnecessary when the next day word arrived that Old Walder had been killed in his own hall. His sons had returned embarrassed and confused from the Riverlands, only to be fed poisoned pie containing their father’s entrails. Only a serving girl saw what happened. She said a cupbearer with dark hair and grey eyes stared at her blankly and stated, “the North remembers”.

Following word of House Frey’s fall, Tommen named Lord Edmure Tully as Lord Paramount of the Riverlands; his House’s lands and titles restored. As Jaime suggested, Tywin named Emmon as Lord of the Crossings. It had little to do with Tywin’s regard for the man, and more to do with Emmon’s being the last Frey and, conveniently, his goodbrother.

At first, Brynden spat on the crown’s offering. It wasn’t until Sansa wrote on the crown’s behalf and explained all that Jaime and Tyrion had done for her that Bryden relented. He still wished to thrust his sword into Tywin’s eyes, but he committed to standing against the threat from the east, and the threat against the dead that Jon spoke vehemently of.

Robin Arryn trailed close at Sansa’s side. His eyes darted nervously around the dragonpit, and Lord Royce followed close at the young lord’s back. Rumors swirled that Littlefinger had faced a rather mysterious end just a moon turn ago. Brienne was both curious and afraid to ask the North of it. There was a dangerous spark in Sansa’s eyes when the matter was raised the day prior.

With the kingdoms and the peculiar group of Free Folk settled in the dragonpit, Brienne glanced across the dais to the handful of Unsullied officers, Lord Varys, and Ser Barristan. The young queen had yet to arrive, but Brienne had seen her meager army from the battlements only an hour earlier. The army of the Seven Kingdoms outnumbered the Unsullied 15 to 1.

 _I suppose she intends to win by way of dragons. 8,000 Unsullied will hardly do much for her. The Stormlands have more men, and they’re rather depleted after years of war._

All the kingdoms’ bannermen stood protectively outside the city gates. It was an incredible sight to see, and one that Brienne still struggled to believe. Were it not for the Lannister brothers, it never would have come to pass. The thought rankled Tywin, and Brienne loved it.

Before Brienne could ask Jaime where he thought the dragon queen might be, two more figures entered the dragonpit. Arya Stark wheeled Bran into the rundown arena; a cool smile on her face. A fortnight prior when the North arrived in King’s Landing, their presence and the information they brought rattled the Keep as much as the wildfire had. Brienne thought on it as she watched Bran and Arya make their way up the ramp of the raised dais to sit near Sansa and Tyrion.

_A fortnight ago_

Jaime and Brienne stood in the courtyard embracing Tyrion and Sansa. The children were passed around as cousins were introduced. The twins were ten moons old, and Sansa’s babe nearly three moons. It had warmed Brienne’s heart to see the younger coupe looking so well and happy despite the obvious fatigue or parenthood.

Brienne’s fingers danced over the young babe’s head. “What’s her name?”

“Catelyn Lannister.” Sansa beamed at Brienne as she shared the name proudly.

After meeting their newest niece, Jaime glanced over his brother’s head and paled. Following his gaze, Brienne saw a young man in wheelchair that could be none other than Bran Stark.

“Hello, old friend. I hope your father provides me a room on the main level. I fear it might be difficult to ascend any stairs, and I have a bad habit of falling from great heights.”

Brienne’s eyes moved slowly from Bran to Jaime. He had gone even more ashen since Bran spoke, and Brienne had to nudge him to reply. “Apologies… Lord Bran. Of course. If we could speak later…”

“Yes, I have much to discuss with you and Ser Brienne.”

Brienne startled at the words. “Oh, I’m not a knight, but I was your mother’s sworn sword. I’m so very glad that you’re alive and… well?”

A small laugh pushed past Bran’s lips. “My apologies. Wrong timeline, though I must say… this timeline has proven far more _productive_ for the pair of you.”

Bran’s eyes landed on the twins; a wide smile stretching across his lips. “I do hope the third has stopped causing you troubles in the morning.”

Jaime laughed nervously at Brienne’s side and leaned close to whisper into her ears. “I’m going to the Seven Hells for this. I truly broke him.”

Shockingly, Bran had heard Jaime’s whispered words. “Bran the Broken. No, I regret that was another timeline as well. A _most_ regrettable one, truly.” Bran smiled at Jaime once more. “Hearing about it would only give you a headache. Shall we go inside and pay our respects to the king and Lord Hand?”

The Household staff lifted Bran’s wheelchair up the courtyard steps and into the hall. Arya approached and greeted them with a wolfish smile. “I’m eager to meet the woman who helped reclaim House Stark’s ancestral home. Bran tells me that you are quite impressive with a sword.”

Arya’s eyes darted to Oathkeeper at Brienne’s hip. Then her eyes settled on Jaime. A grave expression lined her features. “I killed your uncle’s House, and I’m not sorry about it. Your father is on my list too, but Sansa says that I can’t kill him. Don’t worry, you were never on my list.”

Without another word, Arya moved into the Keep and stood behind Bran’s wheelchair. Brienne reached for Galladon who was being held by the septa. “Well… this will be interesting.”

Jaime had Arthur in his arms and followed House Stark inside. “And I thought we made an entrance when you were five moons pregnant. This is going to be interesting indeed.”

Following the Starks into the Keep, Brienne watched as Tyrion guided the group towards the throne room. Court had ended not long ago, and Brienne knew that both Tywin and Tommen were still inside. When they reached the door, Tyrion announced himself and the attendant bid him wait for entry.

Only a moment later, the doors opened, and their group moved forward. Tommen was on the throne listening intently as Tywin spoke before him. When Tommen’s eyes landed on Tyrion, he leapt to his feet. “Uncle Tyrion!”

At the young king’s excitement, Tywin glanced over his shoulder. He began to turn back towards Tommen, but the older lord did a double take at the babe in Tyrion’s arms. Tommen ran down the steps and embraced Tyrion carefully as little Catelyn slept soundly in his father’s arms. Then Tommen moved towards Sansa and embraced her. He exchanged apologetic words for all that Sansa endured at the hands of his cruel, older brother.

Brienne watched as Tywin slowly descended the stairs; his gaze fixed on Catelyn. “What is that?”

“Ah, lovely to see you too, father. This is a babe. To be more specific, this is your granddaughter. Catelyn Lannister. You recall Lady Catelyn, don’t you? The woman you had killed under violation of guest right.”

For a moment, rage simmered in Tywin’s eyes when he looked at Tyrion, but then his eye caught something, or rather someone, at Tyrion’s back. Cocking his head curiously, Tywin stopped his progress down the steps.

“Did you stop in Barrowtown on the way here? Why is my former cupbearer with you?”

Arya stepped forward. A wolfish grin stretched across. “Hello, m’lord. Or is it ‘my lord’? That is how I was brought up to say it after all. My father, Lord Stark, would have been most displeased at my failure. I was never much good at attending lessons with Septa Mordane.”

When Tywin’s eyes went wide, Jaime guffawed loudly; catching everyone by surprise. His shoulders shook with amusement at Brienne’s side. “She was your cupbearer!? This is fucking perfect.”

Brienne bit her lip to keep from laughing when she saw the expression on Tywin’s face. He scowled at Jaime before turning his attention back to the group before him. “Well then, why don’t we speak in my study. I’m certain Lady Arya here will be happy to pour us all some wine.”

Now as Brienne sat in the dragonpit, she smiled as Bran and Arya glanced down at her. The night of their arrival, Bran told them things that made Brienne question her sanity. He confessed to the whispers in their ears; ‘Go to Tarth’ and ‘The cups are poisoned’. Bran shared what happened in a different timeline, or rather, several timelines.

Brienne had marveled at what sounded more like fanciful tales of a young boy spending too much time in Winterfell’s library.

A hand for her maidenhead. A bear pit. A safe passage. A knighting.

It wasn’t _that_ timeline that upset Jaime, but rather the others; Bran’s two failed attempts and one timeline that was a mere vision into the future. Jaime was distraught at the idea that he held Brienne in death across three lifetimes, and that two of them were due to his lack of intervention.

What rattled him most was what Bran believed _would_ have happened if they beat the living with Jaime only having one hand. While it had not come to pass, Bran seemed insistent that it was the most likely outcome after defeating death. _‘You weren’t you in that timeline. You went away inside when you left Brienne. It never happened though. I had to change the past when I realized we were going to lose, and that future hurt would never come to pass.’_

That night, Brienne had held Jaime close as stray tears fell from his eyes. _“It can’t be true. In no lifetime could I let you die like that. In no lifetime could I stay by Cersei’s side when she used wildfire, and then abandon you to return to her after we beat death together.”_

Brienne had consoled Jaime as best she could. _“Bran said that timeline never had a chance to occur, because he changed the past before the Night King defeated us. Don’t condemn yourself for things that never came to be.”_

_“But in the events that did happen, he said that I stayed at Cersei’s side after she used wildfire! That I kept… that I stayed with her. If I did that, I believe his vision for what the future could have been. I was weak.”_

Brienne’s attempt at comfort had not helped. Jaime had dissolved in her arms once more. Now as she appraised her husband, Brienne saw a new resolve. His eyes darted across the dragonpit to his former sworn brother. Both Jaime and Barristan been forced from their positions. Brienne knew that Jaime feared judgement from the great knights he idolized in youth; Ser Brynden and Ser Barristan among them. He would never admit it, but it hurt Jaime to see how they looked down on him.

Squeezing his hand, Brienne captured his attention. “It will all be fine. Bran seems know quite a lot.”

Jaime nodded and offered a small smile. Then a loud sound from the sky captured their attention. Three dragons circled overhead; the larger of the three with someone on its back. The great beast touched down in the dragonpit and kicked up a storm of dust and debris. Brienne glanced away and covered her eyes to prevent dust particles from irritating them.

When the young Targaryen, descended the steps, Tywin stood tall in the center of the dragonpit. “So good of you to join us, Lady Daenerys.”

“ _Queen_ Daenerys.” The young woman’s tone was cool as she appraised Tywin and the large group at his back.

A small smirk tugged at Tywin’s lips. “Odd, I do not recall word from Essos indicating as much. I’m certain you have a lovely little kingdom over there.”

Daenerys took a seat between Ser Barristan and Varys. She smiled smugly and appraised the group before her. “As you can imagine, I grow tired of my forced exile, and I return for my crown. The crown stolen from my House by the usurper. Shall we begin this mummer’s farce?”


	9. I’ll Fight For Our People

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Seven Kingdoms face the dragon queen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're a fan of Dany... just look away from this chapter. I mean... she's not AWFUL, but... she's not great in this fic.

**Tywin**

The tension in the dragonpit was palpable. Tywin could feel all eyes settle on him after Daenerys’ insinuation that the meeting was to be as productive as demanding a whore to stop whoring.

“Perhaps, Lady Daenerys, if you hadn’t spent your entire, _albeit it short_ , life in Essos, you would know something of our kingdoms’ history. Your father _lost_ his throne. Just as Aegon came conquering 300 years ago, Robert conquered on behalf of House Baratheon. He won the right to place his son, King Tommen Baratheon, on it. You have as much claim to the crown as your little, exiled friend across the Narrow Sea.”

The reference to Jorah Mormont was as obvious as the very man’s absence. It was evident that Daenerys found out about his _assignment_ and cast him out.

Daenerys face gave away nothing. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she glanced from Tywin to Tommen. “Then I shall conquer it for House Targaryen once more.”

Tywin raised a brow at her boldness. “You have an army of 8,000 Unsullied. We have an army of over 100,000.”

“Tell me Lord Tywin, how many soldiers did Aegon have when he conquered? Perhaps my time in Essos has failed me greatly where it concerns history of my own House. I only ever recall hearing of his dragons. His _three_ dragons. I’m curious, Lord Tywin, how well will your army hold up against dragonfire?”

Tywin knew the answer and he swallowed it down. To challenge the girl in a war would be unwise, but he needed to show the strength of the realm. “The kingdoms were not united against your ancestor as we are today. For that much, I thank him. Even if you were to win this war, who then would you rule if you kill us all?”

“The people. I aim to free them from tyrannical rule.”

Tywin raised an amused brow and gestured back to at Tommen. “Does my grandson strike you as a _tyrannical_ ruler? Do you even know the answer given you’ve not lived in Westeros a day in your life?”

Appraising Tommen, Daenerys took pause. Her brow arched as she considered her next words. With a chin raised to Tywin, she spoke commandingly. “I don’t know anything of him, but I know of you. I know of your son. I also know the rumors surrounding your grandson’s lineage, and if he is like his _true_ father, he is not fit to sit on the throne. Any man who would stab his king in the back has only the most dishonorable and unworthy blood flowing through his veins.”

“Does it matter that I slit his throat rather than shove a sword through his back?” Jaime’s sarcastic voice called out at Tywin’s back. Biting back a growl, Tywin muttered to himself and glared at Jaime. It was a wordless instruction for Jaime to shut his mouth, and if Jaime’s change in posture was any indication, the message was received.

Daenerys leapt from her seat at the words. “You would jest about your dishonor as though it something to be proud of?”

“It is something to be proud of.” A calm voice called out from the Northern contingent. The strange boy in the wheelchair stared vacantly at Daenerys. Tywin moved to silence the boy, but the young Stark spoke before Tywin’s instruction could escape his lips.

“Your father was a tyrant and unfit to rule. He chased away his closest advisors with his madness, Lord Tywin included. The men who sit at your side now saw it for themselves. You’ve asked them of your father, and they’ve confirmed his cruelties.”

Daenerys eyes narrowed at Bran; her face reddening in rage. “And yet they were honorable enough to keep their vows to my House. They did not kill their king as the Kingslayer did.”

“They were too weak. Everyone surrounding Aerys was too weak. Everyone except Ser Jaime.” Tywin startled at Bran’s words. Those assembled stared at the boy in confusions, including Jaime.

Barristan Selmy’s eyes narrowed at Bran and he spat through gritted teeth. “Honor is not weakness. Ser Jaime swore scared vows and broke those when his sword took the life of his king. He sullied the white cloak!”

Bran glanced down the row of Westerosi towards Jaime; a slight smirk at his lips. “It was the white cloak that sullied him.” A dark expression clouded the young man’s eyes as he continued. “So many vows...they make you swear and swear. Defend the king. Obey the king. Keep his secrets. Do his bidding. Your life for his. But obey your father. Love your sister. Protect the innocent. Defend the weak. Respect the gods. Obey the laws. It's too much. No matter what you do, you're forsaking one vow or the other.”

Tywin’s eyes slowly followed the boy’s gaze to Jaime. His son had gone ashen in his seat. It was one of the few times that Tywin saw his son speechless.

“Tell me, _Barristan the Bold_ … what if your king asked you to kill the innocent?” Bran’s gaze moved to the aged knight. In reply, Barristan shifted uncomfortably in his chair; his eyes darting to Daenerys.

“My _queen_ would not ask that of me.”

Bran huffed a small laugh and shrugged. “No, but your king asked it of others, and you watched. What if your _honor_ meant the lives of more than my uncle and grandfather? What if it meant the lives of thousands… say 500,000?”

Before Bran could reply, Jaime called out warningly from his chair. “Bran, Don’t.”

Ignoring Jaime’s plea, Bran continued while staring at Barristan, “What if, Ser Barristan, your king asked you to stand by as he ordered the entire city consumed by wildfire just as he ordered Summerhall consumed by it? Aerys killed his own grandfather, King Aegon V. Would you have stood by then because of your oaths?”

Any anger in Barristan’s face melted away at the words. His eyes narrowed and he spoke questioningly. “What are you saying…”

“I’m saying that your sworn brother at a mere seven-and-ten was more honorable and bolder than the rest of you. When your chosen queen’s father ordered the city consumed in wildfire, Ser Jaime stopped it. Varys knew of the alchemists’ efforts and placement of the substance. Ask your fellow advisor.”

Glancing at Varys, Barristan’s eyes narrowed. Tywin watched in confusion as Varys’ jaw went slack. “I couldn’t have done anything to stop it. I only heard _rumors_ of their effort.”

“You heard the order to the pyromancer, did you not?” Bran’s voice echoed off the stonework of the dragonpit.

Varys stammered, but was interrupted by Daenerys. “Is it true? Did my father order such a thing?”

Glancing down to collect himself, Varys took a deep breath and raised his eyes across the dragonpit towards Jaime. “I begged King Aerys _not_ to open the gates to the rebel army. I knew that if they entered, the wildfire would be used. The gates were opened at Grandmaester Pycelle’s encouragement.”

“Because you needed more time.” Bran’s voice took on a dangerous edge. At the words, Tywin’s head snapped back to the young man in the wheelchair. Glaring at Varys, Bran spoke ominously while addressing Daenerys.

“You saw him in your vision in the House of the Undying. He spoke of the Prince Who was Promised. Rhaegar looked at you and said, ‘The dragon has three heads. There must be one more.’ Your brother’s wife, Elia, was told to be too weak to birth him a third child, so your brother kidnapped my aunt. She thought herself in love, but Rhaegar never loved her. He used her. She was pregnant in Dorne with Rhaegar’s third son; your nephew. It wasn’t long after the sack of King’s Landing that my cousin was born. Lord Varys knew the truth. He knew why the Kingsguard were sent to Dorne to guard the Tower of Joy. He had hoped to replace the babe with an imposter. He needed _more time_. He knew of the wildfire, and that is why he despaired. He only needed Westeros to _think_ that one child had survived the flames. One child secreted from the city by him. A proper _hero_. The babe he meant to replace my cousin with was a Blackfyre living in Essos. That is how Varys tracked your movements. He has connections there and has been following you for some time.”

Tywin sucked in a deep breath and glanced at Daenerys. The young woman looked as ashen as Jaime had only moments earlier. Her head turned slowly to appraise Varys. A strange expression clouded Varys’ face as he considered Bran. “I serve the realm. I only meant to do right by the people. Aerys’ line was mad!”

“I am of Aerys’ line!” Daenerys face morphed from shock to rage. She took a step towards Varys and Barristan leapt to her side; a hand at the hilt of his sword.

Putting up a defensive hand, Varys tilted his head and spoke cautiously. “You were not alive by that point. I did not know you, your Grace, but your father…”

“Was your king! My brother was your prince. You meant to betray them both! Ser Barristan… his head.”

_Well this is working out well. Let them kill one another off._

“Your grace… please. I am loyal to you.” Despite Varys’ pleading, Barristan unsheathed his sword and took a step towards the Spider.

“As you were loyal to my father and brother? Consider yourself lucky that Drogon is not at my back. I offer you the kindness of Ser Barristan’s blade.”

Before Varys could protest, Barristan’s blade dragged across his neck. Blood poured to the ground as the Spider’s body twitched before stilling.

As Daenerys stared at Varys’ body, Bran spoke once more. “Your brother’s son is alive. He is among us today.”

Tywin’s head turned slowly and he jaw went slack. Feeling as though he had lost all control over the preceding, Tywin’s fists clenched in anger. 

Turning to face Bran fully, Daenerys steeled herself. “I am the last Targaryen. That babe would have been born a bastard. The crown is mine.”

“That babe was _not_ born a bastard. He was born Viserys Targaryen, but my cousin goes by the name Jon Snow. Your brother was obsessed with history and prophecies. When Aegon conquered, he had his sister wives with him; Rhaenys and Visenya. For his children, Rhaegar ensured the names followed; Rhaenys and Aegon. He instructed my aunt to name the babe Visenya for a girl or Viserys for a boy.”

At Bran’s words, Jon Snow stepped forward. Tywin’s eyes narrowed in disbelief; an incredulous expression on his face. “Ned Stark’s bastard. You expect me to believe that he is Rhaegar’s son. You forget your history. Prince Rhaegar was _married_ to Princess Elia. If he impregnated Lyanna, her babe would have been born a bastard.”

Shaking his head, the strange boy met Tywin’s eyes. “I know the history of this kingdom better than you know the truth of _indiscretions_ within your House. Rhaegar had his marriage with Elia annulled. He wed my aunt in secret, and the record is at the Citadel. Rhaegar needed the babe a legitimate Targaryen.”

With a heavy sigh, Jon stepped forward and looked to Tommen. “I intend to make no claim against you. I only ask for the crown’s support against the threat to the North. I spoke to Lord Tyrion about it, but his letters have been met with little more than scorn from your Lord Hand. The threat is real, and it marches for us all. It cares not for Houses or crowns.”

Tommen offered a small smile and nodded at the words. From across the dragonpit, Daenerys’ voice shook the space around them. “You lie. He is no dragon.”

Bran smirked at the young woman and raised a brow. “In another timeline, he rode Rhaegal. He bent the knee to you, and you questioned his loyalty because of his lineage.”

Tywin watched as Daenerys took a step forward. Her fists clenched and her face reddened in rage. “You have nothing to substantiate these claims. It’s no different than my refuting it.”

Loath as he was to admit it, Tywin could see her point. Bran was merely making statements, but what was to say he wasn’t lying about it all. Then, Bran spoke in a tone not his own as he stared at Daenerys.

“When the sun rises in the west and sets in the east. When the seas go dry and mountains blow in the wind like leaves. When your womb quickens again, and you bear a living child. Then he will return, and not before.”

At Bran’s words, Daenerys stumbled backwards. “Who told you that?”

“No one told me. I saw it just as I’ve seen everything before and after it. I saw Ser Jaime save the city from wildfire. I saw Khal Drogo pour molten gold atop your brother’s head. I saw Ser Barristan unhorse Prince Duncan _and_ Ser Duncan at the tourney where he earned his knighthood.”

Bran’s words unsettled many in the pit. Daenerys tilted her chin defiantly and stood her ground. “I do not believe your words or claims. I will give your bastard king two days to abdicate the throne, or I will reclaim it by conquest _and_ birth right. I intend to break the wheel.”

“By setting it aflame? You smiled when you burned the masters in Astapor. That was the first time I saw the madness. In another timeline, I saw you burn armies to the ground. I saw a vision of you burning this city to the ground.”

All eyes in the dragonpit turned to Bran as he continued. “I only wonder… when will your last remaining advisor admit to it. Ser Barristan was there when your father fell deeper into madness. He has seen the signs, and he is foolish to overlook them in you.”

“Ser Barristan…” Daenerys called out to her Lord Commander. The older knight glanced at her with confused eyes. “You said it yourself. My brother would have made a fine king. There was no madness in him, just as there is no madness in me. The crown was _stolen_ from my House.”

“I did not know…” Barristan paused and glanced back at Jaime. His brows furrowed and he turned back to Daenerys. “… Robert won the war. I came to you to serve a better sovereign after King Joffrey stripped me of my position. He was not fit to rule, just as your father was not fit to rule. He is gone now. Perhaps we can arrive at more peaceful terms with King Tommen.”

Something dark passed over Daenerys face. As if sensing his mother’s desire to leave, Drogon circled above and lowered to the ground. Wind whipped up the dirt once more and left everyone blinded by the debris. When the dust settled and Daenerys mounted her dragon, she glared at Tywin.

“Two days. If you do not stand down, I will bring fire and blood to you and your army.”

Tywin heard the young woman give a command in Valyrian that saw the dragon’s winds extend in reply. The great beast lifted into the sky and Daenerys’ men began to leave the dragonpit. Barristan lingered slightly but began to move away from the ruins.

Bran called out to Ser Barristan. A final plea for consideration. “She’s her father’s daughter. You’ll see.”

Barristan paused, but did not reply. Instead, he followed the Unsullied officers once more. From Tywin’s back, Jaime leapt to his feet and ran towards the edge of the dais.

“Ser Barristan!” At Jaime’s call, the aged knight paused once more. He took a deep breath and glanced back at Jaime. “Don’t let her attack inside the city walls. She’ll set off the wildfire below it, and we don’t have time to dispose of it. There is no time to evacuate the entire city.”

Tywin looked at Jaime as though seeing him for the first time. For nearly twenty years, Tywin assumed his son an oathbreaker as the rest of the kingdoms did. He had seen the frustration in Jaime’s eyes every time the name ‘Kingslayer’ was hurled at him. _‘A lion does not concern himself with the opinion of the sheep.’_ It was only the regard of other lions that Tywin wished his son to care about, and it was Jaime’s decision that fateful day which aided their pride. That was all that Tywin had cared for.

Learning that Jaime acted for entirely altruistic reason surprised Tywin. _Do I even know this boy?_ Taking slow steps towards the dais, Barristan appraised Jaime. His words were quiet and uncertain.

“Why did you say nothing? Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

Jaime replied with a shrug. “To what end? So everyone would learn of the wildfire and try to use it for themselves as my shit sister did? Better that no one found it. Better my name than the death everyone.”

The words confused Barristan. With a heavy sigh, he left without reply.

**Jaime**

The sound of dragons in the distance sent a chill down Jaime’s spine. He did not fear death, but he feared failing. Failing his men. Failing his allies. Failing his kin. Failing his love. Brienne.

Brienne had raged at being left behind in the battle to come, but Tywin had her taken kicking and screaming into Maegor’s Holdfast with the rest of the royal family and small council. Much could be said of Tywin Lannister, but his commitment to legacy was unrivaled by any. With another heir in Brienne’s womb, Tywin would not entertain the thought of her in battle.

While Jaime felt badly at how Brienne despaired, he felt an immense relief at her safe confinement. Brienne had begged Jaime not to leave her alone in this world. She wished to fight at his side, but all he could offer her were sweet kisses and a warm embrace before he left to join the army.

Jaime loved Brienne with all of himself, but he needed her safe more than anything. Now as he stood at the front lines of the army with Addam and Bronn to his left and Ser Brynden to his right, Jaime steeled himself for what was to come. Unlike battles past, this would not be a fair fight. Dragonfire would pour down from the sky as a storm over sea might.

To Brynden’s side, Jon Snow grumbled in annoyance. “This is wasteful of Daenerys. All this for a crown she won’t be able to keep atop her head. She’ll kill the very men she needs to protect her crown when the Night King comes.”

The Blackfish grumbled at Jon’s side. “Enough of the dead. One improbable thing at a time.”

Jaime could feel the Blackfish appraising him. Turning his head slowly, Jaime’s brows furrowed at the curious expression on Brynden’s face. “What?”

The Blackfish snorted and shook his head as though his thought preposterous. “You were such an annoying shit as a boy. Do you recall asking me about the War of the Ninepenny Kings? Gods… there was that one tale you asked for repeatedly.”

Jaime’s face scrunched in disbelief. “Are you to tell war stories _now_? There are three dragons moving towards us, and _now_ you wish to indulge me?”

Ignoring Jaime’s remark, Brynden glanced at the sky wistfully. “It was so nice out that day. It’s always the nicest day that something shit happens. Today will probably be equally awful.”

“Well thank you for that glimmer of hope.” Grumbling to himself, Jaime turned back towards the field stretching out before them. He could see the Unsullied reaching the crest of the small rise before them. They held back as Jaime expected they would. It seemed their presence was more to play the role of mercy when blazing Westerosi begged for death. 

At the head of the Unsullied army, Jaime saw Barristan with a sword in hand. Jaime had little desire to fight his former sworn brother, but Barristan chose the dragon queen. He was standing by madness.

_I hope he convinced her to avoid the city. The people don’t deserve such a cruel fate._

The dragons cried out once more in the distance; they were closer now. Addam exhaled loudly at Jaime’s side. His tone was reprimanding as he spoke “You should be inside the Holdfast with your wife.”

Jaime snorted and glanced at his childhood friend. “Why? Am I not a knight? Are those not our men at my back? Are those not innocent people inside the city walls? My father has his heirs. I’m of little use to him now.”

It was the truth. When Jaime insisted on standing with his army to face the threat, Tywin did not argue the point. His concern was for a pregnant Brienne, the twins, little Catelyn Lannister, and the king. As long as his legacy was secure, Tywin cared little for the rest.

A commotion at Jaime’s back caught his attention. Glancing over his shoulder, Jaime’s eyes went wide at the sight of his father approaching the front of the lines. The Mountain followed closely at Tywin’s heels and somehow managed to make the Lannister patriarch look small.

As Tywin shoved between Jaime and Addam, he looked questioningly to the sky. “You’re still here. We need to charge ahead.”

“What?” Jaime’s tone was incredulous. The question had multiple meanings.

_What are you doing out here? What are you talking about? What is your suggesting?_

For two days, they had discussed approach. An effort was made to very carefully find and relocate wildfire caches below the city. Given the crater that once held the great Sept, it seemed a logical place to transport as much of the substance as possible. Bringing it above ground or trying to take it from the city was too risky. Jaime only prayed it would be enough to minimize loss of life.

Tywin turned to appraise Jaime. His lips were drawn into a thin line and his brows furrowed. “The army. We need to charge ahead. Sitting here like this, she’ll only have an easier time torching us all. She holds back her men because she does not wish to set them ablaze. If we engage them, she will hesitate.”

“But the plan…” Before Jaime could finish, Tywin cut him off.

“I’ll not wager the lives of our army, city, and my son on some scheme by a boy who fancies himself a bird. Give the order, or by the Seven, I will.”

With a heavy sigh, Jaime called out to the officers at his back. “Forward! Now!”

At his command, the sound of steel being unsheathed rang out. The army began to charge forward at the backs of their senior most officers. Jaime’s eyes were trained to the sky as they surged ahead towards the enemy. Then, he saw them.

Three dragons dipped down from the cloud cover above. Their wingspan seemed to stretch on forever and cast long shadows over the field below. Large bodies eclipsed the sunlight, and Brynden’s words echoed in Jaime’s head. _‘It’s always the nicest day that something shit happens.’_

As the dragons lowered towards the ground, their mouths opened, and a fire straight from the Seven Hells appeared in their gullets. Surging forward faster, Jaime felt his heart accelerate only moments before an overwhelming heat blanketed their army of 120,000 strong.

The dragons carved a path of fire and blood through their lines. Of the three dragons, Daenerys rode the largest down the middle column. To Jaime’s right, the dragon’s breath set men ablaze as it passed overhead. The heat made Jaime’s skin redden and the tiny hairs at the name of his neck sizzle. Men from the North and the Vale cried out in pain as flames melted away their armor and consumed their flesh.

The sight and smell sent Jaime back twenty years. All he could see was Aerys pointing an accusatory finger at those condemned to die by flame. A panic began to set in as Jaime recalled the way Aerys’ eyes danced with lust as he watched skin melt from the flesh of his victims.

Shaking the vision from his head, Jaime stared ahead and raised his sword. As he neared the Unsullied lines, Jaime could hear the dragons circling back in the distance. Risking a glance over his shoulder, Jaime noted they had avoided the city and turned to cut another path of destruction through the Westerosi army.

Then, steel met steel. Widow’s Wail came down hard on the awaiting spear of an Unusillied soldier. The force of his strike cut the spear in half, and the Unsullied had no time to react before Jaime landed a killing blow through the man’s neck.

The ground fight was not one that Daenerys could win. Her men were too few, and the Westerosi too determined. Unlike the Unsullied who fought for their queen, the Westerosi fought for more than their king. They fought for their homes, their spouses, and their children.

Jaime’s blade was guided forward by a pair of blue eyes. Pushing away the frightful images of his youth while serving in Aerys’ Kingsguard, Jaime summoned the vision of Brienne and their babes. He would gladly give his life to keep them safe. Knowing they were in the Holdfast was the only comfort he had as smoke and ash began to choke him.

Every Unsullied that fell by his blade was another step closer to keeping his family safe. More men cried out in agony as the rear of the lines were consumed by dragonfire once more. Spinning left and right, Jaime tried to glance towards the rear of the lines that had yet to surround the Unsullied. An threatening presence at Jaime’s left encouraged his body to spin left. With his blade reaching out for the threat, Jaime’s eyes met his foe.

Barristan.

At the last moment, Jaime stilled his blade at the Barristan’s neck. Barristan looked equally surprised at Jaime’s presence; his own blade came to a halt before removing Jaime’s head. For a moment, neither moved. Former sworn brothers stood staring at one another as war raged on around them. Then the cries of the dragons caught Jaime’s attention.

In the chaos, everything seemed to still. He saw his men running towards streams to douse their flaming bodies in water. Desperate cries from the ground reached for the sky as men dragged themselves away; their limbs ablaze and their skin falling from their bones.

Bile rose in Jaime’s throat at the sight of his men being decimated by an enemy they had no chance to defend themselves against. The dragons cut lines back and forth through the people. With grief-stricken eyes, Jaime glanced back at Barristan. He saw the anguish in the older knight’s eyes as he watched his former countrymen fall to flames.

Then he shouted. “Stop! Keliemagon! Grey Worm, keliemagon!”

At Barristan’s foreign commands, an Unsullied soldier withdrew his spear from a man pinned to the ground. The soldier’s eyes were confused as he looked to Barristan.

With a heavying chest, the Unsullied commander glanced around the field. His own men were falling to Westerosi blades despite large sections of the opposition’s army falling to dragonfire. He began to shout commands at his men. Slowly, spears were retracted and placed down.

Looking at his own men, Jaime screamed. “Enough! Stop the attack!”

Orders from the officers rang out. The Westerosi began to surround the Unsullied, but no one moved to strike the enemy. All eyes lifted to the sky as the dragons darted back and forth. Rapid movement to Jaime’s side caught his attention. Tywin grabbed Jaime’s breastplate and snarled.

“What are you doing!? Why did you stop the attack!?”

Jaime pushed his father’s hand away. “Do you think it matters if we kill every last foot soldier of hers!? Look at her! She’s setting our men ablaze! Bran’s plan didn’t work.”

Without another word, Jaime grabbed a spear from a fallen Unsullied. He ran towards the center of the field to better access the dragons above. He didn’t need to kill them; only Daenerys. As he neared the center of the field, the larger dragon began to behave erratically. He swerved and struggled as he lowered to the ground.

Daenerys began to shout frantically at the great beast, but her commands were ignored. At the largest dragon’s strange behavior, the other dragons stopped spewing fire onto the army below. A glimmer of hope blossomed in Jaime as he glanced back where Unsullied and Westerosi stood shoulder to shoulder in confusion.

“Jon! Jon, now!” Per their plan, Jaime called out for Ned Stark’s false bastard. Their plan had been simple, albeit absurd.

Bran hoped to warg into Drogon and bring the dragon to the ground. If he could do that, the other dragons were likely to follow what appeared a ceasefire. Jon would then approach Rhaegal and attempt to bond with the dragon just as Bran claimed he did in another timeline.

Jon emerged from the crowd of soldiers and moved towards Jaime’s side. As expected, the other two dragons began to descend. Rhaegal moved towards the westernmost edge of the field and Jon followed quickly. Turning his attention towards Daenerys, Jaime raised the spear in his hand and ran forward. As Jaime raised the spear, he called out for her surrender.

“Daenerys! Surrender! It’s over!” At Jaime’s words, Daenerys glanced over her shoulder. She screamed at the dragon beneath her body.

“Dracarys! Dracarys!”

_I hope that means ‘ceasefire’._

The dragon’s head moved frantically from side to side. It was evident that the beast was at war with itself. Jaime pulled back the spear and offered one last warning.

“Surrender now! Call him off!”

At the approaching threat, the dragon’s head whirled around. Its mouth opened and an overwhelming heat assaulted Jaime as the beast prepared to spew fiery death upon him. With the spear gripped tightly, Jaime knew he would die, but he only prayed his aim was true before he met the Stranger. As his arm began to move forward and his fingers loosened, Jaime felt something crash hard into his left side.

A blast of dragonfire blazed a path where Jaime stood defiantly only a heartbeat earlier. With a thud, Jaime’s body and head hit the ground hard. The air was knocked form his lungs and his eyes squeezed shut in pain.

He hadn’t launched the spear properly before he was hit hard in the side. Jaime despaired that he had failed, and Daenerys would regain control of the dragon. It was evident from how the beast struggled that Bran lacked complete control.

Glancing up, Jaime saw the pained expression of Barristan Selmy atop him. The older knight screamed and spun around. Flames had caught at his boots and breeches which both men tried to smother with their hands.

With the small flames snuffed out and burn marks to each of their palms, Barristan screamed at Jaime. “Idiot boy! Who charges a dragon and its rider!?”

A swirl of dust engulfed them as the dragon’s wings began to flap wildly. The beast cried out and stumbled. With a hand up to shield his eyes, Jaime could see one of the dragon’s engaging the larger. Jon Snow was atop the smaller dragon which was attacking its brother. Daenerys lay screaming on the ground with an arrow protruding from her back. When the dragons lifted into the sky, Jaime saw a helmed archer sitting astride a horse in the distance.

The archer slowly lowered the bow in hand and dismounted the horse. When the archer removed the helm, Jaime gasped. Brienne dropped the bow and held to run towards Daenerys, screaming at the injured woman. “Enough! It’s over!”

**Brienne**

Brienne stood in her armor in the throne room with Jaime at her side. A group of battered Unsullied and Ser Barristan stood in defeat beside Daenerys as the crown’s soldiers surrounded them. The enemy stood in chains and stared up at King Tommen where he sat on the throne.

By the lookouts estimate, the crown had lost 50,000 men to dragonfire. Among the dead were several notable lords and officers. Most of the Kingsguard had died while leading the knights of the Crownlands in battle. Only Ser Balon and Ser Boros had remained at Maegor’s Holdfast to guard their king.

Brienne could hardly bring herself to mourn Ser Meryn or Ser Gregor. The Mountain had strayed from Tywin’s side in battle to maul a prone Unsullied. As reward for his unnecessary separation from the lead rows, dragonfire consumed him and Brienne was glad of it.

With a deep breath, Tommen stood from the throne. His eyes were compassionate as ever when he looked upon the enemy. A slight sorrow touched his tone when he spoke. “The war is over, Lady Daenerys. One of your dragons has bonded with your nephew as you were warned. If you try to attack us again, you will be confronted with your own child.”

Brienne watched as the young Targaryen’s face fell. Her jaw clenched and she swallowed thickly. Before she could reply, Tommen spoke once more.

“I thank you for keeping the dragons away from the city. The people did not deserve fire and blood. It is not the way.” Speaking more sternly, Tommen continued. “You killed our men, however; bathed them in dragonfire. Wives and children will go to sleep tonight without their loved ones. I need you to understand that so that you understand _why_ we had to kill the larger dragon. I cannot risk you doing that again to my people.”

At the words, Daenerys stumbled. She dropped to her knees and sobbed at the words. Brienne could not bring herself to feel pity for the woman. They had tried to treat with Daenerys at the dragonpit. They had tried to stop the fighting while Daenerys commanded her dragons to burn them all. The woman before her tried to kill her husband.

Bran had somehow maintained enough control over Drogon that he could not defend himself form Rhaegal’s attack. The smaller dragon ripped its brother’s throat to shreds after battling it just east of the battlefield.

For her part, Brienne was an expert marksman. Growing up on an island, the bow and arrow were the first weapon she learned. She and Bran had discussed the battle before it began. When Tywin stormed out of the Keep to join Jaime, Brienne barreled through Ser Boros and Ser Balon. Bran would hold Drogon as long as he could so that Brienne could remove his rider.

When Brienne took aim and released the arrow, she intended to wound; not kill. At the end of it all, Daenerys was a woman lost. Bran had shared information of Daenerys’ life in Essos before carving a path west. While Brienne could not condone Daenerys’ actions, she could pity the circumstances that led her to that point. Brienne was a mother now, and she feared her own children alone in the world. Hurt and desolation could drive people to do dangerous things.

Speaking from the throne once more, Tommen’s words echoed off the walls. It was the most confident that Brienne had ever seen the young king. “For your crimes against my people, you find yourself a dragonrider without a dragon. You will be granted safe passage with your men to return to exile in Essos. Alternatively, you may stay here, but you will hold no lands nor titles.”

Brienne watched as Daenerys squeezed her eyes shut. Her body trembled with barely concealed rage, but she held her tongue. She was not Aegon come again. There would be no conquering by fire and blood.

Taking a deep breath, Daenerys tilted up her chin. “And my other dragons? What of Viserion and Rhaegal?”

“As I said, Rhaegal has bonded with your nephew, Viserys Targaryen. The dragon will not follow you. As for Viserion, he will remain here as well. Lord Bran informs me that he will not bond with you; that he is meant for another. You may have been the last dragon wherever you called home, but you are not the last dragon in Westeros.”

Sucking in a sharp breath, Daenerys looked to the floor. Silent tears streamed down her face and her chin quivered. “I will return to Essos with my men, though I ask that you allow any of them to stay who wish it.”

Brienne glanced up at Tommen to appraise his reaction. With a small nod, Tommen agreed to her request. “You have my word that no harm will befall anyone wishing to stay so long as they adhere to our laws.”

“I stay by my queen.” An Unsullied commander at Daenerys’ side stood tall and spoke commandingly. Brienne recognized the man from the dragonpit. His eyes shone with confidence as he straightened to full height and stepped beside Daenerys.

Brienne did not know the Unsullied, but she respected their bravery and loyalty to the woman on the floor before them. All seemed intent on staying by her side despite her loss in the war. Only Ser Barristan seemed uncertain. When they returned to the Keep, Jaime had shared how Barristan called off the Unsullied and pushed Jaime away from the dragonfire.

As if reading Brienne’s mind, Tommen spoke loudly for all assembled. “Ser Barristan, I must apologize for your treatment and dismissal at the hands of my brother, King Joffrey. He had no right, and he removed one of the greatest knights to take the White Cloak. I trust you would have fought for the crown loyally were it not for his actions. You saved my uncle, Ser Jaime, in the field today, and you called off the fighting on the ground. We would welcome you home gladly, and I would restore your place as Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, if you would have it.”

Brienne watched as the aged knight’s eyes widened in shock. He seemed conflicted over offer. While he appeared disenchanted with the woman he fancied a queen, he was a man of his vows. The young Targaryen glanced up at him and nodded. “Stay here, Ser Barristan. I can offer you no such honor.”

The knight whispered at her side. “I swore to protect you…”

“And you did, but you cannot protect me from myself. I’m going home now. I wish you to do the same. Stay here with your people.”

Barristan took a deep breath and glanced up at Tommen. With a nod, Barristan accepted the offer. “I would be honored to serve the crown, King Tommen.”

Brienne could hear Tywin huff form Tommen’s side and it felt another victory of the day. It was no surprise why Tywin wished to have men such as Ser Gregor guarding the king. He wanted men loyal to him first, and the crown second. Over the moons, Brienne noted a growing confidence in the young king. He was always respectful towards his grandfather, but Tommen was beginning to find his own voice. Margaery, like her grandmother, was a strong influence in that.

Together, they would make sound decisions for the kingdoms, and not for the West. The shift frustrated Tywin, but he could not speak against his king. At Tommen’s command, a guard unchained Ser Barristan and returned the older knight’s sword.

Barristan glanced at Daenerys once more, but she only nodded before standing upright and glancing at Tommen. “I should like to know who else I call kin. Who is the third rider?”

Tommen’s eyes landed on Bran and he nodded in indication that the information was fit to share. Bran sat on the left side of the room among the small council and House Stark.

“There are many in Westeors with Targaryen lineage. Your House proved very effective at establishing marital alliances throughout their time on the throne. I would no sooner have time to recite them all than I would any other Great Houses’ connections. Your closest kin would be Viserys, who as you know, goes by Jon. Your next closest kin would be House Baratheon. The very House you just fought against. Your great-aunt, Princess Rhaelle, married Lord Ormund Baratheon, and from their union, King Robert’s line sits.”

Brienne’s mind wandered back to Bran’s words from the day prior. She, House Stark, House Lannister, Margaery, Tommen, and Jon sat together in a small study.

_One Day Prior_

“I’m not entirely confident that I can warg into a dragon that is so well-bonded to its rider, but I _need_ to. The dragons will continue to attack unless Daenerys appears to stop her assault.”

Tywin huffed from his seat at the head of the table. “A ridiculous plan. It’s one thing to see dragons flying about in the sky, but now you think yourself capable of controlling one.”

“Do you have a better idea?” Jaime glared at this father as he spat the words. Reaching for his hand, Brienne squeezed Jaime’s fingers reassuringly.

Tywin’s palms pressed flat to the table as he stood and leaned over it. “I am Lord Hand, and I will determine a _reasonable_ strategy against this dragon queen. I will not wage our entire army on this boy’s attempt to manipulate the mind of that _thing_.”

“We have no other option, Lord Tywin.” Jon’s voice was heavy with fatigue as he spoke. “There is a greater threat coming for us than Daenerys Targaryen. We need the dragons, and if this plan works, we’ll have two living dragons to face death itself.”

Brienne considered the plan and sighed. Bran would warg into Drogon and ground the largest dragon that was commanded by Daenerys. When the dragon leading the assault was contained, the brothers would likely follow. Without riders bonded to them, they would follow the lead of Daenerys and Drogon. Once down, Jon would attempt to bond with Rhaegal per Bran’s instruction. When bonded, Rhaegal would willingly move against Drogon and _only_ then. With his two brothers dueling, it was likely that Viserion would remain neutral. Bran claimed that dragons were smart. That Viserion would sense the strife among his siblings, but he had a connection to both and would hold back.

Tywin snorted and straightened to full height. “So, the outcome of this battle is to be determined by a boy warging into a dragon, a hidden Targaryen assuming control of a second dragon, and a third dragon lounging in the fields while its brothers wage war? This is madness!”

“This is our plan.” Tommen spoke confidently at the other end of the table. Brows rose at the sight of the young king overriding his grandfather who he had been reliant on for years. “I trust the Starks and Jon. They have aided us thus far when they’ve had no reason to offer loyalty given the actions from _some_ in our family. I give Uncle Jaime command of my army to lead the charge outside the gates.”

Tywin’s eyes narrowed and Brienne could practically hear the older lord’s teeth grinding together. From across the table, Tyrion spoke questioningly. “If this all works… who is to ride Viserion?”

Bran smiled as though he knew something that the rest of them did not, and of course, that was the case. “I found it amusing that King Robert wished to kill every known Targaryen during his reign considering that he himself had Targaryen blood. His grandfather wed Rhaelle Targaryen; King Aegon V’s daughter. Robert waged war against his great-uncle when he rebelled. The greatest irony of all is that he slept with a Targaryen.”

Tywin startled at the words. “What!? Cersei is a Lannister!”

“Yes, of course she is. Just as Tyrion is a Lannister despite your belief that Aerys forced himself on Joanna. I would agree with Lady Genna’s assessment; Tyrion is the most like you. How can you not see it? What I mean to say, is that while Robert slept with _many_ women outside his marital bed, one of them was in fact a Targaryen descendent. A female of Aegon IV’s line of legitimized bastards. Cersei missed one of Robert’s bastards when she ordered them killed. Gendry Waters is very much alive. He has king’s blood… _Targaryen_ blood and a good amount of it.”

At the name Arya perked up. “Gendry!? I know him!”

A knowing smile tugged at Bran’s lips. “Of course you do, sister…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a note - with Tyrion not in Essos to guide Daenerys in this AU, things went differently on her journey, though we don't get view into all that happened with her. That is also how Barristan is still alive.


	10. I’ll Fight For Our Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne and Jaime face the Night King.

**Jaime**

Tywin leaned over the makeshift map of Winterfell and the surrounding area. Amassed around the table were the senior most officers from each kingdom, Bran, the Kingsguard, and Tommen. The older lord’s eyes narrowed as he digested Bran’s last words and considered the plan for defense.

“And there is no other way to deal with this threat?”

Jaime snorted at his father’s question. The sound drew questioning eyes towards Jaime. Standing shoulder to shoulder, Brienne elbowed his ribs and grumbled at him to behave.

“You’re asking if there is no other way to deal with the threat? Should we consider your preferred approach to keeping unruly threats in check? A marriage alliance perhaps. We can offer up Cersei to the Night King as bride.”

“Jaime…” Tywin’s tone was a warning, but Jaime could hardly contain himself; his chest shaking with laughter.

“Think about it… she has already killed her last two husbands. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Enough, Jaime!” Tywin snapped from across the table, but the amused expressions of those assembled did not go unnoticed.

With a heavy sigh, Jaime raised a brow. “Well what do you even mean by ‘is there no other way to deal with the threat’? What other way could there possibly be!? We’ve been preparing for nearly two years and _now_ you ask if our plan could be improved upon. Two years mind you, in which you’ve kept that crazy woman alive… in the Keep… for no reason.”

“She is our king’s mother!” Tywin’s fist slammed into the table and sent pieces scattering to the edges of the map and the floor.

“The king’s mother who tried to kill our king’s grandfather, goodaunt, wife, and goodmother!” Jaime was incredulous as he stared at Tywin. For reasons no one could comprehend, Cersei was still a prisoner under the crown’s surveillance. They had transported her to Winterfell for _monitoring_ , though Jaime prayed that some disgruntled guard might forget to feed her.

Almost two years prior, Cersei had birthed a bastard girl, Cerelle Hill. Before the babe was born, Bran confirmed what everyone already believed; the babe was not Loras’, but rather, Tyrek’s.

“To your room, Jaime!” Tywin pointed at the door; his face red with rage.

Pouting out his lip dramatically, Jaime feigned disappointment. “Without supper?”

At Tywin’s returning glare, Jaime sighed and removed any jest from his tone. “I only mean to say that there _is_ no other way. This plan is the best we have. It will minimize the greatest loss of life, and…”

“I said _out_.” At Tywin’s clipped tone, Jaime glanced at Brienne. Her eyes were narrowed at Tywin in irritation as the older lord once more banished Jaime from war council. It was the second time that week.

Before Jaime stepped away from the table, Tommen straightened to full height. “Uncle Jaime stays. I agree with his plan for defense. He has already guided us down the correct path before, and I trust him now just as I trust what Lord Bran says.”

Tywin huffed and swallowed his rage. Leaning against the table, Tywin hung his head to collect himself. “This plan is reckless, your Grace. To place our best in the godswood with only swords and this… raven-boy.”

“Raven-man, please.” Bran smirked slightly before continuing. “As I told you, this is the only way. I’ve seen what we must do and the people who must be present. The dragons should hold back much of the threat from the wights, but the White Walkers and the Night King are unaffected by fire. Only Valyrian steel will destroy them.”

Jaime considered the plan once more. He, Brienne, Barristan, Brynden, and Arya would protect Bran in the godswood. With only five Valyrian weapons among the living, all of the precious steel swords to be in the godswood to face the Night King and his generals. Jaime and Brienne each had half of Ice, Barristan would wield Longclaw, Brynden would wield Heartsbane, and Arya her Valyrian steel dagger.

The Hound, Theon, Ser Addam, Bronn, and Ser Boros would provide additional aid by protecting Bran when the fighters with Valyrian steel were engaged with White Walkers and the Night King. From the sky, Jon and Gendry would kill as many wights as they could. The living were greatly outnumbered by the dead, and the dragons were the only way to equalize the field. Due to Daenerys’ attack, the living army totaled 70,000 whereas the Night King was believed to have well north of 200,000.

Taking in Bran’s words, Tywin pinched the bridge of his nose. He glanced towards Jaime and narrowed his eyes before speaking. “Ser Daven, you will lead the West in the field. I am going to the godswood.”

Tyrion shook his head in reply. “You are meant to be in the crypts with the rest of us.”

Raising to full height, Tywin clasped his hands behind his back. “I will do no such thing. My place is in the godswood.”

Tyrion’s eyes darted to Tommen before settling on his father. “You are Hand of the king. King Tommen will need your advice should the living army fail. The evacuation route…”

“Has been outlined and can be navigated by you and your wife. This _is_ your Keep, is it not? If I fall, you will act as advisor to King Tommen. He will need a strong Hand to offer council, and I know no one more capable.”

At the words, Jaime’s head snapped to Tyrion. His younger brother’s jaw went slack at their father’s statement. Tywin had named Tyrion as Hand in the past, but not out of honor or respect. Tyrion had been named Hand out of need. Their father’s words now seemed an acknowledgement of Tyrion’s capabilities; a praise which had never before escaped Tywin’s lips.

With no further complaint, Tywin looked back to the map. “The West and the east will stand together on the northernmost edge of the field. Ser Daven will command the West, Lord Selwyn will command the Stormlands, and Lord Royce the Vale. Ser Balon will remain to protect King Tommen in the crypts, and the rest of the Kingsguard will lead the Crownlands.”

Taking a breath, Tywin pointed to the southernmost edge of the field. “Ser Manfrey will command Dorne, Ser Baelor will command the Reach, and Tormund will command the Free Folk. Here, in the middle, we will have Lord Edmure command the Riverlands and…” A small smile tugged at Tywin’s lips as he glanced to Lady Lyanna Mormont. “…as the lady insists, Lady Lyanna will command the North.”

Standing as tall as a girl of her size could, Lady Lyanna spoke like a woman twice her age and stature. “As you should know from your gooddaughter, islanders fight fiercely. Send me the dead and I’ll bring you their heads.”

Selwyn snorted at the words; a smirk on his face and pride in his voice. “She speaks true. Give me ten islanders any day over 1,000 of you mainlanders.”

With the final details discussed, the war council concluded, and everyone began to leave. Bran’s voice called out ominously. “I would speak with Lord and Lady Lannister of the West.”

At the words, Jaime deflated. All he wanted was to spend time with Brienne. With death marching for them, Jaime didn’t want to risk a moment away from his wife. It was for her and their children that he fought. Their children as well as little Catelyn were far away from the Seven Hells they were to face. Genna was with the children on Tarth with Queen Margaery and the princess.

When the room cleared out, Bran appraised them for a moment before speaking. “You’re much stronger this time; both in mind and body. I explained to you some time ago how I interceded in your lives. My failed attempts and this successful attempt led us to this point. One thing that I did not tell you was _why_ the pair of you mattered so much.”

Jaime’s brows furrowed as he stared at the young man before them. Shifting on his feet, Jaime’s shoulder grazed Brienne. A charge went through his body just as it did every time they touched. Time and familiarity did not dilute their passion and need for one another. If anything, Jaime’s love of Brienne only expanded with time. It was infinite as the night sky.

Bran’s eyes seemed to distance as though seeing something in his mind rather than before him. “I surpassed my predecessor’s skill. I was able to see far enough back to the first Long Night and how it ended. You both know the tale of Azor Ahai, I presume?”

Both nodded wordlessly as Bran’s tone took on a meaningful edge. “The legend says that Azor Ahai spent thirty days and nights to forge a sword to defeat the darkness. When he plunged it into water to temper it, the sword broke. Then he spent fifty days and nights trying once more. This time, he captured a lion and drove the sword into the its heart, but the steel shattered again. Finally, he spent one hundred days and nights working on a third sword. He called for his wife and plunged it into her heart. Though it broke his heart to do so, he knew it was necessary to ensure the sword’s strength. Her soul combined with the steel to create Lightbringer. They claim it was always warm to the touch and held the fire necessary to defeat ice; for life to defeat death. I learned much from watching Azor Ahai and his wife. The pair of you are them reborn, and it is through you we will win this war.”

Jaime’s eyes went wide, and he positioned himself protectively before Brienne. “I will not sacrifice Brienne to win this war! There _is_ no life without her.”

A small laugh shook Bran’s chest. “The story I told was just that. A story. Over time, the truth became quite blurred. As history from those dark days was lost to man, so too was truth. The truth wasn’t quite as romantic. The tale is symbolic of Azor Ahai’s trials to find love. Only love can defeat darkness, and until he found love, he was not strong enough. Azor Ahai was an incredible warrior, but he was just that; a devoted fighter. Growing up in a generation of death and darkness, women were far from his mind. He practiced his skill and learned the sword. Like water slipping through one’s fingers, he was unable to hold onto life. His comrades died around him battle after battle. His skill was strong, but his resolve weak. Then he met a woman; a false love. He followed her and lost himself along the way. His skill was strong, but his heart was not in the right place. She made him lose sight of his honor and all that he fought for. Her love was like a caged lion; dangerous, cutting, and desperate.” Bran looked pointedly at Jaime, and the meaning weas clear. Cersei was his caged lion; his false love. He was never meant to have her, but he had tried and they both suffered for it.

Bran continued and broke through Jaime’s thoughts. “It wasn’t until Azor Ahai found true love that he could cut ties with his false love. He had to see his false love for what she was. In finding true love, Azor Ahai found the missing piece to defeat death. He already had the skill, but it was the resolve he needed. The heart of a warrior makes for an incredible battle, but love is what truly conquers. Lightbringer was not a sword, but rather his wife; Nissa Nissa. It was her love that guided his hand in battle. They fought together. It is said that if Azor Ahai fails to end the darkness, if _he_ fails, the world fails with him. You must fight together. You, _Ser Jaime_ ; a man who gives all of himself for love. A man who regards love as the most important thing in our world. You, _Brienne_ ; a woman whose purity keeps Ser Jaime’s love true and honorable. He doesn’t do dark things for your love; he only drives it away to keep you safe.”

**Bran**

Just as he did in the first attempt against the dead, Bran sat in the godswood. The people before him were different as were the circumstances. He felt better about this attempt. If it failed, Bran knew there would have been no other way. Calling out to those in the godswood, Bran bid his farewell. “My wings will guide me until the time comes to return.”

As his eyes rolled back, Bran felt the familiar sensation of wings stretching out to catch the breeze. He was soaring over Winterfell and towards the battlefield. The living were positioned as instructed and moments from crossing blades with the Others.

In the distance, Bran saw Jon and Gendry cutting through the Night King’s army. The wights became chaotic and ran in all directions to avoid the flames. As expected, they split into sections like tributary systems of a river. Groups moved to the north and south, as the rest fled down the middle towards the shortest solder, yet tallest of heart; Lyanna Mormont.

The young woman from Bear Island spoke truly at the meeting. She had the bravery and confidence of the Night King himself. At her back, the North and the Free Folk stood poised to meet the enemy. Trebuchets fired flaming projectiles over the ranks of living soldiers and into the dead. Everything was going according to plan, and Bran held his breath for the first unknown to present itself.

Though the wights fought with no strategy or care for their own safety, the Night King and his generals adapted to each situation quickly and effectively. Realizing the threat from the sky, and the position of the living to meet breakaway groups of their army, the Night King summoned a storm.

A blizzard blew in from the north. Winds stronger than any Bran encountered before threw his host’s body towards the south. The dragons cried out in the distance. Their wings were unable to catch the wind properly and hold a stable position. Circling away from the battle as Bran’s host had, the dragons moved south to regroup.

Bran appraised the dragons and their riders. Before the battle, Bran insisted on having saddles designed to ensure the safety of Jon and Gendry. Were it not for the contraptions, Bran was convinced the Night King would have gained two more soldiers.

The storm settled over the battle below. Realizing the sky would afford little stability, Bran surveyed the ground below. Flying over the woods to the south of the battle, Bran spotted a new host. Concentrating on the animal, Bran warged and abandoned the sky.

Opening his eyes once more, Bran was in the body of a bear. He urged the large animal towards the battle. As he neared, Bran noted the chaos in the field. The southernmost flank was being overrun by the dead. Without the aid of the dragons, the living were losing ground and men.

Urging his host’s body forward, Bran mauled anything in his path. Without dragonglass or Valyrian steel, the dead would not fall. Instead, Bran only hoped to afford time to the living. He tried to charge east where he knew the Night King to be. Passing through the chaos of the fight, Bran felt something slam into his side. A wight bear began to maul Bran’s host, but before Bran could react, the enemy stilled.

A Dornish knight had shoved his dragonglass spear into the wight bear and killed the creature. Bran tried to encourage his host’s body forward, but the animal’s right side and leg were bleeding profusely. The animal stumbled along, but wights began to pile onto his host’s body. Then in the distance, Bran saw the Night King and his generals.

Unable to remain in the dying animal, Bran returned to the godswood. With a gasp, Bran’s eyes rolled forward. The living soldiers were staring in disbelief at the massive storm hanging over the battlefield in the distance. Bran watched as the dragons circled around the perimeter of Winterfell and struggled to land atop millenniums old battlements.

Stonework gave way to the weight of each dragon, but the beasts steadied themselves and acted as archers might, spewing fire onto incoming threats below. Death was close now, and Bran had little else to do except wait.

**Tywin**

The sight of dragons perched atop Winterfell as if to become monstrously sized gargoyles shocked Tywin. At the sight of them, a chill ran down his spine. There was something foreboding in the air that made Tywin’s stomach roll.

The plan had been for Tywin to be in the crypts when the time came, but Tywin never intended to hide away. His sons were men grown now and finally provided heirs that Tywin so desperately sought. For most of Tywin’s life, it was Jaime he concerned himself with. Jaime was everything a Lannister was meant to be; golden, confident, handsome, and strong.

When Tywin looked at Tyrion, he saw failure. Tywin saw a monster that sent his fortress tumbling into the sea below the Rock. It was Tyrion that stole Joanna, brought a curse upon their House, and shattered any respect that Tywin worked a lifetime to achieve after his father’s failings. Or so he thought.

Over the years, Tywin came to see Tyrion. He saw the younger brother’s cunning, determination, and boldness. Tywin saw himself, albeit much smaller in stature. _‘Even a small man can cast a very long shadow.’_

It took seeing the truth of Cersei to see the truth of Tyrion. For years, Tywin thought of Cersei as Jaime in female form. Through the twins’ lives, Tyrion considered them as political pieces. They were to be maneuvered around a board as one might play a game of cyvasse. Then Cersei demonstrated every trait certain to doom their House; infidelity, betrayal, selfishness, pride, and evil.

Tywin knew that for his legacy to continue, Cersei needed to be chained. Jaime and Tyrion called for her head on more occasions that Tywin cared to count. Part of Tywin understood their pleas. Cersei had tried to kill all of them at one point or another. She threatened the very thing that Tywin desired most; legacy.

Part of Tywin wished to execute her. Another part of Tywin could not. At the end of it all, Cersei was still his daughter. Further, when Tywin saw the truth of Cersei and the truth of Tyrion, he saw the truth of himself. It felt as though a veil was lifted from a mirror and Tywin did not care for the reflection. The things he despised most in Cersei, he saw in himself. If Cersei was hateful, it was because of him.

_How can I commit her to death, when it was my example she followed? If she must die, surely I must._

Tywin had always been faithful to Joanna, but after her death, he soured. He pretended at chastity, but he took more whores to bed than Tyrion. He pretended at selflessness to further his House, but every move made was to further his position. Tywin betrayed others as though a tourney to be won. He exhibited pride and committed evils akin to the very man he came to loathe in life; his former friend and king, Aerys.

More than anything, Tywin knew that Joanna would not be proud. She would be proud of Jaime and Tyrion despite him, but not Tywin. While she looked on from the Seven Heavens, Tywin cemented his place in the Seven Hells. It was too late for him, but he could be of use now at the end of things. He could save his sons.

Now as Tywin stood among true knights of the realm, he lamented what he became. _I could stand tall among them, but instead, I am a man who seeks atonement._

Still, pride prevented Tywin from admitting to any of it aloud. He stared at his son’s back and marveled at what Jaime became. When Tywin learned what Jaime did to save King’s Landing, he hid away in his chambers. After the ineffectual treaty at the dragonpit, Tywin retired early. He recalled sinking to the floor and staring out over the balcony.

_My son gave up his name to be the truest knight in the history of the Seven Kingdoms. I pillaged a defenseless city and ordered babes killed by a monster. What have I become? Would Joanna ever forgive me?_

The next day, Tywin donned his crimson and gold, marched from his chambers with his head held high, and afforded Jaime as much praise as he always did. None. It was too late for him. It was too late for Cersei.

When the dragon queen came, Tywin stood shoulder to shoulder with Jaime on the battlefield. If it came to it, he would step before his son to take a spear. He would have stepped before a dragon too, but instead, Tywin took a spear through the thigh and proved useless to Jaime when the time came.

Standing behind Jaime now, Tywin resolved to do better. _Even if I’m without legs, I’ll drag myself before the boy and take a sword for him. I owe him that much._

As Tywin stood reflecting on his many failures, an unearthly breeze blew through the godswood. The chill that descended over them was not of their world. It sank deep into Tywin’s bones and picked at his resolve.

_Stand your ground. Fight for your children’s future. Shield Jaime._

Leaves rustled and snow scattered across the field. Something dangerous stood in the shadows nearest the Keep. Bran Stark’s voice called out hesitantly at their backs.

“The Kings of the North.”

Tywin’s eyes turned slowly towards the boy. His eyes were wide in surprise as he turned back to appraise the slowly approaching creatures. “The what?”

“The crypts… I had not seen this threat before. I was…” The boy’s voice faded away as he stared at Jaime and Brienne.

_Tywin’s blood ran cold at mention of the crypts. My son is in there with his wife and innocents._

Moving quickly before Bran, Tywin grabbed his shoulder. “These _things_ came from the crypts? The gods dammed crypts where we put the women, children, small council, and king!?”

Bran nodded numbly; his eyes fixed on the approaching figures. Turning his attention to the dead Starks, Tywin sucked in a sharp breath. _Winter is coming indeed._

The Valyrian steel of Barristan, Jaime, Arya, Brienne, and Brynden raised defensively at the dead Starks’ approach. Taking a deep breath, Tywin unsheathed his dragonglass blade. “Tell me the fastest way to the crypts. I’ll not let my son and innocents die without weapons. They’ve only Ser Balon to protect them.”

Bran spoke quickly at Tywin’s back and gave instructions. Turning to the Hound and Addam, Tywin barked at the men. “Stay with them. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Surging forward, Tywin wedge himself between Jaime and Brienne. His blade clashed with one of the dead Stark kings and Jaime called out angrily. “What the hells are you doing!? Step behind us.”

Jaime’s elbow nudged Tywin backwards. His blade moved quickly alongside Brienne as they blocked and parried with an undead Stark. At the way his son and Brienne moved together, Tywin watched on in awe. Their blade may as well have been one. They anticipated one another’s movement better than Tywin could control his own.

In a heartbeat, Jaime and Brienne had destroyed one of the risen Starks. They surged forward and met two more. Seizing the opportunity, Tywin moved forward again. He had to get to the crypts to save Tyrion. Though Tywin owed Jaime his body to use as a shield, Tywin knew that he owed Tyrion his life.

When Tywin’s sword met another dead Stark, Jaime screamed at him once more. “I said to move back!”

“No! They came from the bloody crypts! I have to get to your brother!”

Tywin’s words startled Jaime. While focusing on the creature before him, Tywin felt Jaime’s eyes boring into the side of his face. He was about to scream at Jaime to concentrate, but the young knight could feel threats as well as he saw them.

Jaime spun left and dropped to a knee; his sword thrust up into his decaying opponent. With a mighty swing and roar befitting a man half his age, Tywin took off the head of an approaching Stark king. Sensing an opportunity to pass through, Tywin surged ahead. “I’ll be back!”

With a racing heart, Tywin followed Bran’s instruction. He needed to get to Tyrion, Sansa, Tommen, and those unfit to fight. They had few weapons among them, and one Kingsguard. Outside the godswood, Tywin’s eyes went wide at the sight of dead soldiers. They had positioned twenty men to guard the entrance as added protection from the Night King and his generals. The dead Starks had made quick work of the men.

_Gods. If risen Stark kings can do this, I shudder to think what the Night King and his generals can do._

Grabbing as many dragonglass weapons as he could, Tywin made his way towards the crypts. He cursed inwardly at his gooddaughter’s stubborn refusal to leave her people. While the North had been evacuated, some women refused to leave their husbands and sons fighting in the war. Further, the small council had come to Winterfell to advise Tommen who _insisted_ on being with the people.

The young boy had more of Jaime’s bravery than Tywin cared to think on. Jaime had admitted to the rumors, and Tywin pushed the fact to the deepest recesses of his mind. That his children once behaved as mad Targaryens might, rattled Tywin. Yet again, Tywin felt guilt set in at not being more present.

Dashing down the steps into the crypts, Tywin heard screaming and the shrill sound of something neither living nor dead. His heart quickened at the realization that everyone inside was fighting for their lives. When Tywin reached the entrance, he could see that the doors had been broken through; likely on account of the dead Stark kings.

Stepping over broken pieces of the wooden frame, Tywin moved inside and followed torchlight further down into the crypts. When he neared the bottom of the stairs, corpses in various stages of decay began to reach out for him. They held no weapons, but their jagged nails and sharp teeth served their own purpose.

Dropping the weapons in his arms, Tywin summoned every bit of skill and perseverance from his youth. He cut left and right, felling dead things as he moved deeper into the crypts. With the threats dealt with, Tywin collected the weapons and ran ahead. Then he saw them.

Tyrion was standing protectively before Sansa and Tommen with a dragonglass dagger in hand. The creature clawing at him was twice Tyrion’s size, but he fought as though a man three times his size.

Running ahead, Tywin thrust his sword into the undead creature. At Tywin’s sudden presence, Tyrion’s eyes went wide. “What are you doing!?”

Tywin dropped the dragonglass weapons to the ground. His sword reached out for another threat as he explained breathlessly. “I brought… as much as I could.”

Sansa and Tommen rushed forward to grab a weapon each. They held the dragonglass before them and prepared for anything that might come their way. Tywin moved deep into the crypts and grimaced at the sight of two women being mauled by dead things.

Rushing forward with his sword, Tywin cut through the wights and roared louder than his sigil. He knew the sound would capture the attention of the creatures and draw them to him. Tywin needed to get the dead things away from the defenseless women and children. Up ahead, a wounded Balon limped towards Tywin with three children in his arms. At Tywin’s back, Tommen, Tyrion, and Sansa grunted as they slashed at dead things approaching from a different pathway.

As Tywin passed women hiding in alcoves, he barked at them to grab a weapon near the king. Slowly, wights fell by Tywin’s blade or the blade of the youth at his back. Balon deposited the crying children and turned to face the dead.

The wights in the crypts were less dangerous than the Stark kings in the godswood. Tywin considered how chaotic the creatures were as they lunged forward with no strategy nor weapon to inflict damage.

When Tywin felt confident that the greatest threat was gone, and the group well-enough equipped to care for themselves, he left for the godswood. The Night King and his generals would reach the wooded area soon, and Tywin needed to defend his eldest son.

As Tywin moved back towards the stairs ascending into the courtyard of Winterfell, he grabbed Tyrion’s shoulder. “Keep everyone safe! I need to help your brother.”

Tyrion stood wide-eyed and panting. “Why? Why did you come here?”

Taking pause before running up the stairs, Tywin glanced over his shoulder and met his son’s mismatched yes. “For you.”

**Brienne**

The undead Stark kings proved an unexpected challenge. Bran apologized as the last corpse hit the ground in the godswood. “This had not happened the first time, or at least I had not _seen_ it.”

_Gods. What else did he not see?_

Standing shoulder to shoulder with Jaime, Brienne sucked in deep breaths. Sweat lined her brow and her arms burned from exertion. To her left, Barristan called out to appraise the group for injuries. Brynden was the only one kneeling on the ground when the call came.

“Just a nice gash to the leg. Nothing to slow my arm when the rest of these miserable shits show up.”

Glancing to her right, Brienne noted the resolve in Arya’s eyes. The young woman was not at all what Brienne expected when she first received her orders from Lady Stark. Like the dead they fought, there was an unnatural resolve in the young wolf’s eyes. She didn’t seem to fear death in the slightest. If anything, she seemed to relish the challenge.

A figure ran towards them from the direction of the Keep. Brienne’s body relaxed at the familiar form of Tywin Lannister. Though she cared little for the man, she respected his courage and commitment to his House. Tywin moved past them and nodded at Jaime.

“Tyrion and those in the crypt are armed, and most of the threat removed.”

Brienne’s brows rose in question at Jaime. Neither had expected Tywin to move in defense of the younger Lannister, but Brienne was pleased that he had. As the living took a collective breath, Brienne looked to the night sky. She prayed to the gods that her father was safe in the battlefield outside the gates. Throughout the battle with the dead Starks, the dragons had continued pouring their fiery breath onto threats below.

_That’s quite the welcome for the dead. I’m glad to be on this side of the gates._

Abruptly, Bran Stark’s voice spoke ominously. “He’s here. I can feel him.”

Brienne’s head turned slowly to appraise Bran. The boy was staring at the entrance to the godswood. His eyes were both present, yet simultaneously vacant. It was a chilling sight that Brienne was uncertain how to reconcile.

Lifting her sword into position, Brienne took a deep breath. She repeated the prayer of the Evenstar in her mind. While she could not remember her mother, Brienne recalled the feeling of her. She recalled the warmth and gentle hands that quieted her from waking nightmares.

_Is it truly her memory that I remember, or the desired comfort she might have offered?_

For much of her life, Brienne felt a beast not fit to be daughter nor son. She brought shame to Tarth with her inability to do the one thing asked of her; play the part of heir. Now Brienne had a husband who loved her, and three children who needed her. Taking a steadying breath, Brienne closed her eyes and pictured the fields of Tarth.

She remembered running through the fields on warm, sunny days with a wooden sword in hand. Always playing alone in the fields as other children refused to play with her, Brienne made her own world. She played the role of great knight rescuing the innocent from evil men, imaginary dragons, and sea monsters.

When Brienne opened her eyes, she saw a storm approaching. Massive figures with piercing blue eyes, icy frames, and pale hair strode forward confidently. Brienne swallowed thickly and moved into position. By her count, there were a dozen White Walkers walking before the Night King.

Firelight danced on Valyrian blades and cast long shadows on the snowy ground. Bran’s words echoed in Brienne’s mind of what role she and Jaime would need to play. _If we fail, humanity fails._

At their backs, Theos, Addam, and Boros fired flaming arrows at the White Walkers. The arrows pierced their icy chests and sizzled out on impact. Yanking the dragonglass quivers from their chests, the White Walkers tossed them to the ground as one might discard armor after a battle.

Brienne felt her heart beat wildly at the realization that only Valyrian steel would remove the threat before them. _Gods. Twelve of them. Five of us._

Stepping between Jaime and Brienne, Tywin stared ahead at the threat. Without taking his eyes off the White Walkers and Night King, Jaime spat through gritted teeth. “Did you not see that? Your little dragonglass sword will not destroy them.”

“No, but it will afford you protection. You can’t find two of those things at once.” Tywin’s resolve was strong, and he would not budge.

Following Tywin’s lead, Bronn, Addam, Boros, Theon, and the Hound stepped between the other fights. Together, they could at least force single combat until Valyrian blades became available to remove the threat.

As the White Walkers fanned out before them, collective puffs of breath pushed forward from the row of living standing before Bran. A moment of stillness passed over the godswood as life faced death. At the Night King’s back, two figures came into view.

The creature sensed the threat and turned to engage it. Brienne’s eyes went wide at the sight of Jon and Gendry charging forward to attack the Night King. The distraction allowed the living to surge ahead and land the first blow.

Valyrian blades and dragonglass swords reached out for weapons forged of ice. When Brienne’s own blade met the jagged ice sword of a White Walker, she felt a strong vibration move down her arm. The creature didn’t blink as he glared at her.

Before Brienne could process what happened, the creature moved against her. She exchanged blocks and parries with the White Walker before her. The creature was at least a head taller than her and much stronger. His body seemed wider than any living man including her father. With a powerful kick, the White Walker sent Brienne skidding backwards several feet.

The world went blurry as the air left Brienne’s lungs. She curled in on herself as she struggled for breath. Before the creature could land a killing blow, another blade came into view. With everything he had, Tywin’s blade held off the White Walker’s but a piece of Tywin’s sword broke away. Brienne lunged forward from the ground and thrust Oathkeeper into the White Walker and the creature shattered into a million icy shards.

Fragments of the creature flew into Brienne’s face and caused her to turn away for a moment. When her eyes looked forward once more, she gasped. A White Walker was taking aim at Tywin’s head as the older lord tried to right himself.

Surging forward, Brienne pushed Tywin out of the way with her left arm, and she used her sword to block the blow. The force nearly took her right arm off, but Brienne pushed off the balls of her feet and rolled forward. As she found herself at the creature’s backside, Brienne’s blade thrust into its back and earned the same effect as the last.

Tywin ran to Brienne’s side and pulled her upright. Glancing around the field, Brienne noted that seven White Walkers remained, but Gendry, the Hound, and Boros were dead. Glancing ahead, Brienne saw Jon stumble backwards as the Night King stalked towards him. Blood dripped from the Night King’s sword of gnarled ice. It was clear that his blade was what killed Gendry.

Running forward, Brienne moved to engage the Night King. To her side, Jaime killed another White Walker and called out. “Brienne! No!”

The Night King rounded on Brienne and his blade swung down at her. From the creature’s backside, Jon swung forcefully, but the Night King blocked the blow quickly without turning away from Brienne. The Night King fought as though multiple swordsmen rolled into one. Brienne arms struggled to block his blows, and within a heartbeat, his blade dragged across her arm.

With a cry, Brienne stumbled to her right and watched as blood poured onto the snowy field at her feet. She could feel the Night King’s presence before she saw it. The chill emanating from his body reached out as tendrils of a kraken might wrap around a ship.

Before the Night King’s icy blade could come down on her, Jaime positioned himself before Brienne. He grunted loudly as it took all his strength to keep the Night King’s blade from cutting straight through Widow’s Wail and his body.

Righting herself, Brienne reached out to strike at the Night King’s side, but he deflected her easily. She and Jaime began to move as one, but it felt as though the Night King moved as four. He blocked their strikes easily and countered with his own powerful blows. His blade twirled in all directions and made it near impossible to tell from which angle he would strike next.

Then, Brienne watched hopelessly as the Night King swing from left to right and nearly took off Jaime’s hands. The Night King’s blade knocked Widow’s Wail away and Jaime’s body was left exposed. Brienne tried to shove Jaime out of the way, but the Night King hooked her feet out from under her, sending Brienne hard to the ground.

Her head hit the frozen field below and left Brienne dazed. Brienne had the wherewithal to roll out of the way from a deadly blow, but the creature cared little to end her. It was Jaime he wanted.

The creature stalked forward against a defenseless Jaime. As Brienne tried to stand, she watched in horror as the Night King’s blade raised high and took aim at Jaime. Her lips parted to scream, but only a gasp came out as the world swayed below her feet.

Before the blade came down, Tywin stepped before Jaime. What little remained of his dragonglass blade shattered on impact, and the Night King’s sword cut across Tywin’s neck. The Lannister patriarch’s eyes went wide as his body collapsed and blood spilled onto the ground. His effort saved Jaime, and he afforded his son the necessary time to roll out of the way. Jaime’s hand reached out for the hilt of his sword. Jaime raised Widow’s Wail just in time to block a killing blow.

Brienne surged forward in a haze and took aim at the creature’s back. Without turning towards her, the Night King lifted his sword over his head and blocked her blow. His body pivoted to counter, but Brienne moved backwards. As she did, Jaime cut across the creature’s calf.

To Brienne’s surprise, the Night King only seemed enraged. _How did Valyrian steel cut into him, and yet he did not flinch?_

In a rapid movement, the Night King spun around and sliced across Jaime’s arm. With a pained cry, Jaime stumbled away. Brienne gave chase, but a White Walker approached from her side. The creature had killed Brynden, and it was now free to move against her.

Brienne raised her blade to block the blow. At the contact of Valyrian steel against ice, Brienne dropped to a knee and spun around to cut across the creature’s middle. As the creature shattered, Brienne observed Barristan fell another White Walker about 20 feet away.

Another White Walker moved against the Lord Commander, but Bronn reached out to block the blow. His dragonglass blade proved as ineffective as everyone else’s. The icy sword shattered the dragonglass sword into pieces before plunging his blade into Bronn’s head.

In wild swing, Barristan swung at the creature’s back. The White Walker burst into icy shards as the aged knight dropped to a knee in fatigue. With Arya fighting a White Walker thirty feet away, Brienne turned her attention back towards the Night King. The creature was moving towards Bran as Jaime charged from the left.

With a loud battle cry, Jaime reached out to engage the Night King before he could reach Bran. Brienne ran forward just as Jon joined Arya to offer aid against the White Walker. The Night King sensed Brienne’s approach once more, and he turned to face Brienne. She and Jaime began to cross blades with the creature. They each attacked from opposite sides to get the Night King moving backwards.

As the surged ahead, Bran’s voice called out. “Through the heart!”

The command was all Brienne needed to understand what she had to do. Willing to sacrifice herself for the living, Brienne lunged forward for the Night King. She bent at the waist to hit the Night King in the middle with her shoulder. As her pauldron hit the creature’s gut and her neck and face brushed against his otherworldly skin, an overwhelming pain radiated through Brienne’s body. Her skin sizzled on contact as the creature’s back slammed into the weirwood tree. It was a freezer burn like nothing Brienne had ever experienced.

As the creature raised his blade high to shove downward through her back, Jaime thrust Widow’s Wail into the Night King’s chest. As his sword pinned the Night King to the tree, an arctic blast pushed Brienne backwards violently. The sensation felt like standing in front of a wildfire explosion, but ice flew into her face rather than flames.

Falling backwards, Brienne felt a set of arms wrap around her. “Brienne! Please! I’ll be lost without you. You’re my light!”

The last thing Brienne recalled before everything went black was the familiarity of Jaime’s words.

_I’ve heard that from Jaime’s lips before, but when?_

* * *

Brienne awoke to a weight on her right side. As her room came into focus, Brienne felt a familiar set of limbs draped over her. _Jaime._

Glancing to her side, Brienne struggled to focus as she felt Jaime’s breath warm against her neck. “Jaime.”

The weight on her body shifted, and a pair of emeralds came into view. “Brienne! Thank the gods!”

Something felt wet and heavy at her neck, ear, and cheek. Groping with her left hand, Brienne felt heavy bandages at the side of her head and face.

“It’s alright. You’re alright now.” Tears shone in Jaime’s eyes as he appraised her.

“What happened?” Brienne’s voice felt thick from disuse. Jaime smiled warmly as his hands cupped her cheeks.

“You thought to use your body as a battering ram. Bran said the Night King’s body left a mark on you as he did Bran’s arm. The maester applied a salve to help the skin heal.”

Brienne had seen the fingerprints wrapped around Bran’s forearm where the Night King once grabbed him. Brienne tried to sit upright, but Jaime held her shoulders down. A deep burn in Brienne’s lungs radiated outwards as she stilled.

“Don’t. Just relax. You lost a good amount of blood from your wound. That icy blast at the end broke a couple of your ribs despite the armor. You’ve got a proper lump on your head from the fall to the ground too.”

Brienne wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all. Her eyes closed and she took a deep breath. “What of everyone else? The others in the godswood? My father?”

With a deep sigh, Jaime shook his head. “Of our group in the godswood, only Addam, Barristan, Arya, and Jon survived. Your father is well, though quite worried. He just left an hour ago to help Jon with something. Otherwise, he’s been sitting here with me.

A wave of relief coursed through Brienne at the knowledge her father lived. When the relief passed, grief set in at how many they lost in the godswood. She imagined it was the same in the field. “What of the crypts? Are Sansa, Tommen, and Tyrion alright?”

Jaime nodded in reply. “Yes. A bit rattled, but fine.” A small laughter touched Jaime’s tone. “I think they regret not evacuating as my father demanded. Though… my sister did not survive. She tried to flee the crypts at the first sign of trouble, but the Stark kings killed her.”

Brienne sighed and swallowed thickly. “I’m sorry, Jaime. At the end of it all, she was your sister. She was… much to you.”

Jaime sighed and shook his head in refute. “She was my sister, but beyond that, I hardly knew her in the end.”

Brienne’s mind began to wander; her brows furrowing at the memory of something. “When everything faded away. I heard your voice. You said, ‘Brienne. Please. I’ll be lost without you. You’re my light.’ I swear, I’ve heard that before, but I never recall you saying it.”

Jaime grimaced and glanced away. “Bran said… he said those were the last words I spoke to you in the first attempt at defeating the Night King. When I… held you as you died.”

Brienne’s eyes went wide. “Oh. Perhaps he told me that before.”

Shaking his head in refute, Jaime’s eyes met Brienne’s once more. “He didn’t. When he heard me say it, it was only then he remembered it. Bran said that when he kept trying to change timelines, something seemed to connect us. My hand would hurt where I once lost it, or I would feel something shatter within when you died, even if we were not on good terms yet. He doesn’t know how, but… I don’t… I still don’t understand any of it.”

Brienne nodded slowly at the words. It hardly made sense to her as well, and she struggled to believe any timeline that didn’t see her with Jaime. Lowering his head towards Brienne, Jaime placed his forehead against hers. “I do believe I would have said those words to you before. I can’t lose you, Brienne. You’re what I fight for. Our love.”

Bran’s words echoed in her mind from before the battle. He had known that it would be Jaime and Brienne to push away the darkness. He had known that their love, a pure love, would be enough.


End file.
